


I'm already gone, won't you move along?

by cylikkious



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison Hargreeves Is A Good Mom Again, Allison Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Let Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) Say Fuck, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Obsessive Behavior, Other, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Ben Hargreeves, Sibling Bonding, both? sure lets go with that, but her siblings are kind of dumbasses, i mean emotionally, idfk help uh grace and pogo are alive in this whats going on uh, im sorry, just fucking try to read it im lazy, now theres too many tags im so sorry, this story is all over the place, what am i focusing on five or allison and the family meeting claire and patrick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:04:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cylikkious/pseuds/cylikkious
Summary: The Hargreeves household is rustling about with joy when Allison informs them of her ex-husband and daughter's upcoming visit. Everyone is preparing in their own outlandish ways - that is, everyone besides Five.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> okay heres the deal;  
> \- first time writing these fuckers so don't be surprised if its ooc   
> \- my writing is always kinda tense when i write characters for the first time  
> \- if i made an embarrassing mistake and you catch it pls tell me nicely ):   
> \- i didn't spell check or look for inconsistencies (; so something might just make no sense randomly yknow   
> \- and ily thx bye <3

Five was a little shit.

Little in body, big in mind. Charismatic in a dark and deprived way. Fast and snarky like the negative asshole middle-self-image he has. Three selves: the arrogant asshole, the idiot that got stuck in the apocalypse, and the authenticity of his real self — still quite a little shitbird — but caring. The only (slightly) observable and sweet part of him was his love for his family. Though most definitely there and real, that affection was not expressed in the nicest way. Compliments were scarce and sarcastic, physical contact was almost entirely restricted, and he was still extremely reserved.

So yes, he’s a fucking prick, but he cared. A lot. Enough to survive 45 years in the post-apocalypse, alone. They say hope kills but that was the only thing keeping him alive.

And sure, family wasn’t the only reason he aimed to stop the apocalypse, he made that quite clear — but he had wanted them all together, after all. In the end the boy really did need them, at least that’s what Ben thinks. Klaus says Five could’ve just done his disappearing-out-of-nowhere thing and stopped the little game that this so called “Handler” was playing. Ben gave him a snarl in return. He knew his now sober brother was still dealing with his deceased lover and post-traumatic stress from Vietnam. He wasn’t the best at offering comfort, but he knew better than to get upset about the small things.

No, Five had not wanted to face the situation alone apparently. He tried and failed to do that. The push back into their old relationships with each other was exactly what he wanted, just the same as their old man. The old man and (also old man?) Five were painfully similar in some ways, such as Five’s new obsession over their family and their abilities, his snappy and arrogantly intellectual properties, the way he spent most of his time cooped up in some room working on something day and night through. Come to think of it, the last time Klaus had spoken to the boy was maybe a full 24 hours ago, and maybe he had just gone to sleep and hadn’t come down for his coffee but it made Ben clench his jaw due to a flare of something akin to worry in his phantom body.

“Klaus,” he tried to get his brothers attention as the other ranted while clumsily spinning himself around the kitchen to gather some elaborate breakfast food combination.

Klaus rolled his eyes into his skull and gave Ben an upside down smile as he swung his head backwards. The fridge slammed shut with a rattle and the satisfying splotch of the rubber borders coming together.

“What is it benny boo!”

Ben cringed at the nickname. “Do you ever wonder,” he started, trailing off and hesitating, “what Five does when he locks himself in his room for this long?”

Klaus chugged some yellow-orange juice from a clear indented glass after sloppily pouring it half in the cup half on the counter. “Psh, I heard the little fucker cussing like a sailor through the walls before you reappeared to steal my toes again,” he responded humorously while slapping paper towels down on the counter that now had the juice dripping down it’s sides.

“Yeah but, what the hell could he possibly be doing now that he thinks is worth locking himself in there for an entire day?”

“No idea, darling, only know that the kid will be pasty and stinky when he comes out. Maybe he’s just been beating the meat this whole time. Put that image in your head, maybe he’s even with the manikin—“

“Shut up, that’s gross.” Ben pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed harshly, and even though the way he sensed touch was different than with a physical body, the manifestation he had become could still feel the stress that radiated from the gesture.

“I could very well be right though.” Klaus chirped back.

“But in all seriousness,” Ben frowned, “I’m a little scared.”

 

* * *

 

 

Allison had gotten Claire back. Well, sort of: it was joint custody, but definitely enough. She didn’t want to take Claire away from Patrick, she understood how horrid that could be. They had spoken to each other, a real, genuine conversation. Allison’s voice was still quite bad, almost impossible to use as of now, so I guess “spoken” is an overstatement. It was more of writing and staring which was a lot easier than actually talking for the both of them. She’s sure there would’ve been a lot of “ahs” and “uhs” and “ohs.” Her injury certainly did them both a favor. She could see the pleasure in Patrick’s eyes when he was told and shown what had happened. She knew why he was pleased about it, not that she’s been hurt, but the lack of voice. She was helpless and he knew it, she couldn’t use her abilities on him or Claire, not that she planned to.

So Claire was back. Kind of. Patrick would fly here for the first week she could have her, and he’d stay at the academy. He was still iffy about it so Allison understood. And the mansion was definitely . . . not the safest? Nothing had happened for awhile now, but it was still a pleasant place to be depending on her siblings moods. Pleasant may _also_ be an overstatement, but Claire had not gone through the childhood she had, so such thoughts that ripped her apart here would not be a problem for her daughter. But she still worried. A little.

Her siblings would meet Patrick and Claire. She had to come to grips with that. Her daughter would see Diego, walking around with _knives_ in his belt. She would see Klaus smiling and yelling and chatting to empty space and occasionally an actual _ghost_ sitting casually, as if that sort of thing was normal around the household (which it was). She would finally meet Luther (who she was still in a complicated relationship with) and see how large he had become, maybe he’d even tell her why. Then there’s Vanya, who’s probably the most normal looking out of the bunch, despite her immense power and talent. Allison wasn’t even so sure Claire would see Five at all, and maybe that was for the best. He wasn’t very nice to begin with.

But Claire expected all of them, even screamed in excitement at the news, had kissed the phone audibly for Allison and she could hear the smile in her voice. It made Allison’s heart swell and she’d smiled all day still feeling the high of talking to her daughter. She’d told the others, who smiled too and now it was just a big party of smiles, excluding Five. She didn’t tell him yet. He looked busy.

So Allison had been sure to warn Patrick of the oddness that commenced in this house. Had told him not to be afraid. Had made sure they both knew even if they looked intimidating, they were not at all, and the others were delighted to have them over.

2 days until they came. Allison couldn’t sleep as she waited. She was absolutely ecstatic.

 

* * *

 

 

Once they had all been told of Claire and Patrick, Ben had beamed next to Klaus, who was also beaming with happiness. Klaus enjoyed kids, they were so impressionable and sweet and cute, much unlike Five which Klaus wished would embrace his second childhood and say something babyish for once. But both Ben and Klaus knew Claire would be a cutie like they hoped and Ben had manifested to give a “WOOPY!” He and Klaus planned to maintain his strength so Ben could stay present for most of Claire’s and Patrick’s visit.

Allison was grinning so wide Ben thought her face might just get stuck like that. Surely her muscles would get stiff and slow once her smile diminished, but it seemed to stick all day.

The house was antsy and full of energy. Diego was dusting things with mom and making the place tidied up. He looked like a maid. Vanya asked Allison if Claire had ever been interested in music, she said she had no idea but she could ask when they arrived. Klaus was smiling and cleaning out all the disgusting shit in the fridge. Ben told him he wanted to go tell Five about the news but Klaus insisted he wait and _smell this milk for him because he’s too pussy to make sure_. Ben sighed and did it. It was soiled. Disgusting fucker.

Luther tried to help clean the house up but knocked a vase over in the process, so he backed away from that unit and secluded himself for the time being. He was still fueled with happiness though. Diego muttered insults at him like “gorilla headass” and “monkey-man-bitch” whatever that meant. Grace seemed brighter than she already was, Pogo as well.

Allison was overly buoyant and contented but worry still pinched at her nerves. She knew her siblings would be polite but—

She can’t lie to herself. She was scared. Anything could happen here.

Really, seriously, no doubt about it, anything.

And not knowing what Five was up to all alone in his room was making her even more anxious.

So, dumbly, she made her way up the stairs. Knocked on his door. Was told to fuck off within a half second. She still stood there knowing he could sense her presence. He open the door harshly with purple eyes, bags under them carrying a shit on of groceries. As klaus had told ben, pasty and stinky. Allison scrunched her nose at the smell of her babiest brother.

_“You smell.”_ She scribbled.

Five scowled. “I’m well aware. What do you need?”

Allison drug her shirt up to cover her nose and mouth while squinting her eyes, as if his stench was some toxic gas that blurred her vision. She flipped her notebook. _“I just wanted to check on you, so what are you doing?”_

Five is already fed up and has no fucks to give, so he immediately goes to slam the door before Allison gropes the other handle and removes her hand to write something down, making sure to stop the door with her foot first, _“stop being rude and let’s talk.”_

“I’m busy,” he growls at her, “if it’s something important just call out from behind my door I’ll still hear and let go of the fucking door—“

She shoves the page in his face. _“Claire and Patrick are coming on Friday and you need to take a shower or I’ll lock you in your room, please, you stink!”_ she wrote playfully, testing his limits.

“Who the fuck is Claire and Patrick?”

_“My ex husband and my daughter.”_

“Thank you Kanye very cool now let go of the do—“

She stomps her other foot defiantly.

His mouth wobbles. “Okay, okay, alright I’ll take a shower but don’t expect me to be out and about much.”

Allison frowns.

“Don’t do me like that,” Five sneers at her and she takes her foot out from the door. He shuts it with malice.

 

* * *

 

 

One more day. It was Thursday, and Claire and Patrick were about to fly in.

“Have you ever met them?” Claire looks up at her father.

Patrick shakes his head. “No sweetie, but you’ll like em.”

Claire nods to his response. She grabs his hand as they get on the plane and a familiar feeling of uneasiness settles in her stomach. She was never too fond of planes, always found them too high up and too big to ever possibly be in the sky. How did they go all the way up there like that?

They found their seats. One was new looking and a deep blue color with light sky blue stripes coming down the middle. All the other ones were a dirty looking red velvet. Claire enjoyed the new looking blue one and took that seat on the inside as her dad sat in the gross and outdated red one beside her. _Something must’ve happened to the old seat that used to be here,_ Claire thought.

Patrick’s hand was shaking lightly next to hers, so she slid her small fingers into his again and the shaking subsided. Before she took his hand into hers, she thought he looked almost angry.

“Daddy? Are you okay?”

Patrick let out a long sigh, reminding Claire of a tired animated bear she had seen on some commercial. It had huffed and hunkered down to sleep. Was he going to sleep?

“Yeah. Just . . . Try to sleep, it’s late and we won’t land for a few hours. When we get there mom’ll pick us up, m’kay baby?”

Some quiet.

“Mom told me a lot about Uncle Luther.” She carries on, smiling lightly.

“Guess they were close . . .” Her dad drifted.

She nods. “I think so too.”

Her dad was silent and she heard his breathes become more relaxed. He must’ve fell asleep. She talks again.

“I wish she told me more about the others too.”

She knew her dad wouldn’t hear her, she didn’t speak as loud this time. She guessed it was just a loose thought now. She rolled her head back on the seat and let her eyes fall closed.

 

* * *

 

 

Vanya was set up in her room, the violin comfortably in her hands, ready to practice—

“ _FUCK THIS,_ FUCK EVERYTHING YOU GOD DAMN PIECE OF _**SHIT**_ , SUCK MY TOES WOULD YA! _SUCK MY FUCKING DI-_ SHIT, OW, FUCK, FUCK WHY DID I DO THAT SHIT I'M A DUMBASS!”

Vanya rolled her head back in exasperation. She set her violin down for the 3rd time that day and pounded on the wall.

“Shut up, dude!” She yelled.

She got a louder, more aggressive pound back. For a moment she thought Five might’ve punched right through the wall. It went quiet for a moment before he let out a small but loud-enough “ouchie.”

Vanya almost wanted to laugh at him but decided against it, aware she’d only fuel him more with his random combativeness. She’s not sure what he’s doing but she can tell it’s not anything good. His attitude had gotten progressively worse each month of the year, making him hard to talk to. He and Vanya had a thing going, she’d take him places he needed to go and sometimes he’d ask her to tag along. She thought, finally, he might be opening up more but was proven wrong when he stopped asking for rides all together and once got in a . . . _brawl_ with a police officer.

He can’t be swearing up a storm when Claire gets here. He may be approaching his 60’s but he’s still acting like a teenager. So with that Vanya puffs her chest for a moment and walks down the hall to force her bitch-ass brothers door open.

Her hair is tied up today and, for some reason, it gives her more confidence than when it’s down. She tunes her ear into the sound of mom vacuuming the carpets and let’s a vibrating energy flow from her cheeks to her fingers and the latch on the door zooms out to her command. She opens it slowly and quickly steps in before Five has time to protest.

When he looks to her his face turns sour and she glances to the hole in his— correction, _holes_ , in his wall. The lightbulb above the two is dim now, though it was pretty vibrant when he first screwed it in. The windows light is blocked by a big folded cardboard box and the place is littered with little parts and empty cups and protein bar wrappers.

Vanya is sudden being gripped by the collar. Five is slightly taller than her so it’s a little intimidating at first, but he carelessly let’s go of her shirt and squats to pick up some white turd— oh no it’s just chalk. Vanya laughs gingerly at the thought of it being a white piece of shit before choking down her giggles and straightening.

“You can’t yell like that once Claire gets here.” Vanya said, getting a wave of weariness.

Five snapped his hand out at her and gave a thumbs up, not turning his head away from his wall.

Vanya felt a spark of anger flicker and she bent down to where he was scrubbing the wall with a wet cloth and redoing something he wrote.

“Give me your chalk for a second,” she said and he practically hissed at her. “c’mon you little vampire.”

“No. Why is everyone suddenly trying to get into my room? You go to the extent to open the latch yourself, without even knocking? What if I was milking the dog aye? Punchin’ the munchkin?”

She let a smile grow at the weird phrasing. “Oh sksks, if you even were I wouldn’t judge.”

She saw Five make a disgusted face and turn back to his almost incoherent graffiti.

“Five.”

He didn’t even look at her.

“Whatever buddy,” she gave up, “but if you don’t get your shit together and take a shower within 5 hours I’m seriously gonna take you to a daycare.”

Five turned around this time and took a breath, which made Vanya go wide in the eyes.

“I’ll go take a shower now, you can even smell me after and I’ll stop yelling alright, just keep away! You seem to have pretty low expectations.” He drug a hand down his face and pushed her out and walked to the bathroom right after. He smelled like a dead rat.

He was in there for 10 maybe 15 minutes before stumbling out with his hair still wet and slicked back and his dress shirt sticking onto his back, soggy. But when he walked past Vanya he smelled of Allison’s flowery shampoo and body wash. Confusing but still a much better fragrance.

“Thank you mr. moody,” Vanya mutters as he gets to his door and shuts it quietly this time.

She must have some power over him. He probably would’ve bit Diegos of Luther’s dick off if they did what she just did. God, Five had to choose now to do his little paranoia thing, if he could have waited a day to start his screeching.

 

* * *

 

 

The plane had landed and Claire is hopping at the exit to the airport. She wonders if mommy had brought any others with on the voyage and if she’s get to meet them first. If so, who would it be? What would they be like? She was most curious about Diego, the throwy stabby one. Mom had not touched on him much.

Patrick, on the other end of this situation, was tired and a little skeptical. Was this really a good idea? He didn’t know and at this point didn’t care much. It’s been too long since he’s had a good sleep and if his ex wife whom is improving herself can take care of her efficiently, he’ll take some time to rest. Now a single parent, he understood how exhausting such a role really is. Though he is tired, he still would die for his little girl, even if he’s rolling almost dead because of her uncontrollable energy.

Then Allison’s car rolls up and Patrick lives for the expression his daughter makes. She looks so happy. It makes his chest explode with appreciation so he lets go of her hand and she runs to the car. He walks slower to the vehicle with both of their luggage.

Oh gee, oh my, this week sure is going to be wild for the both of them.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Patrick begin to discover more about Allison’s siblings, dinner is wild, and Five struggles to keep a level head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we be diggin in folks 
> 
> My dumb bitch ass stayed up till 5 in the morning to finish only half of this chapter so like shit im stupid 
> 
> But here  
> Also this might change to 4 chapters because I still don’t know if I have enough space in this to fuck around with what I want to fuck around with...  
> Srry for beinh slow (;

The car ride was certainly . . . interesting, Patrick supposed.

Once Allison had pulled up and he’d let Claire make her way to the vehicle first, it was obvious another figure was in the passenger seat. Guess he’d slide the suitcases in the back with him and Claire. She grabbed his hand for the third time that day and ushered him inside while tugging her small backpack in the foot space. She was smiling crazily and cheered hellos at her mom and the scraggy man that sits beside her. The lanky man was also smiling wildly and saying hello back while enthusiastically shaking her hand ungracefully from the front seat. The skin around his eyes looked blackened and for the most part dirty.

For a second Patrick thought he had two black eyes and imagined the story behind that. He held back a scoff. Just devising that simple thought made him wary of the guy, but that’s all he really does with anyone when he’s with Claire. Suspects everything and everyone of ominous or suspicious behavior. A dad-like reaction.

But as the man talks more and more, Patrick feels himself loosen up with his tense muscles. The shabby man — _Klaus_ , as he had introduced himself soon after they scooted their way inside the car — has a way of speaking that makes you feel serene. Though he smelled of cigarettes and some odd feminine scent, Patrick felt that he could trust Klaus within the first 5 minutes of meeting him. Claire adjusted to him quite fast, laughing far too loud with the man at his twisted yet somehow appropriate humor. He even managed to get a few smiles out of Patrick. A rare thing these days.

“Oh god,” Klaus sighs dramatically as the conversation takes a twist to the family as a whole. “We be wild, sista, just wild.”

Allison smiles, still focused on the road.

Claire puts an amused face on. “That’s not enough info.”

“Well fine then uh, who do you want to know about?” Klaus glances to her and Allison suddenly looks nervous. Patrick raises an eyebrow.

“Which one of them can see ghosts?” Claire blurts eagerly.

The man grins slyly and flicks his hand out to the eyes of the two in the back. A blue wavy light emits from his now clenched fist and Patrick feels cold and distorted for a moment as a twisting feeling grows beside him, like how you’d imagine the ripples of a heat wave far in the distance would feel, expect icy. Before Patrick can process what just happened, a phantasmal young man, glowing sapphire, is sitting next to him.

_Holy shit_ , he thought. The man beside him waved kindly and made himself known as Ben, _the dead one_. He states it so normally, like that’s all he’d ever been. Dead.

“Are— can . . . are you solid?” Patrick stutters out, eyes wide and panicked. Claire was intrigued and reached her hand out to touch him. Her fingers made Ben’s manifestation emanate a tide of water-like ripples and she giggled at the odd feeling. Patrick poked Ben once, feeling a buzzy sensation when he touched him.

The dead one remained next to them throughout the whole drive, out of place but still semi-active in the conversation. It was pretty fucking weird if Patrick was honest. He thought randomly what things Klaus could do, who he could see and what he could know just from the dead that roamed. Could he summon Hitler if he really wanted to?

The talk was halted just as the car did. It jolted to a stop — Allison must’ve had her foot on the gas pedal a little to hard and hit the brakes fast. Ben flashed away and Klaus exhaled as if some weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Claire let go of her dads hand and swung the door open with her small foot, grasping the backpack at the bottom of the car. The house she stepped out to seemed a lot bigger than it did to the others. Though intimidating, her excitement fought the unease.

Allison shuffled out of the car and immediately scooped Claire into an embrace. She was smiling so wide and gleefully, hugging her child again and burying her nose in her hair. Patrick could see tears building up in her eyes and he felt a pang of guilt. It quickly diminished, though, reminding himself of what she’d done to deserve it. He turned to the house, trying to act uninterested but apparently the Klaus guy could see right through it, since he pulled him along inside, helping with one bag. He ranted about getting someone called “Five” to _get the fuck out of his room and stop being a little bitch_. Patrick absentmindedly cringed at the name Five, unsure why someone would would be called a number, before he remembers some things Allison had told him. They were given names years after their actual birth. He assumed they may still be accustomed to calling each other by their number names.

Claire and Allison trailed behind him and Klaus. The House sure was big, and built quite beautifully. The energy it gave out did not match its fine architecture. It was incredibly wild yet horridly upsetting, both at the same time. Patrick half expected to see just kids here; sad, lonely kids, but instead he saw the adult versions of the once depressed children, and kind of still depressed grownups.

A _very_ big man, Luther he suspected. The name seemed to fit him. A gentleman with a wash cloth and some windex, apron flowing all over, rushed out of some room from the side with another women looking like she just stepped out of some 50’s commercial. Patrick caught the glare of a blade sitting in a holster and understood him as Diego. A skinny, short and pale woman with her hair tied up leaned on a railing and made a comment on Diego’s apron. He lunged at her and drew back playfully, she laughed. He wasn’t sure who she was, nor was he sure of the kid standing and looking down from the railing upstairs. He looked disinterested.

“Uh— Diego you nutter, which bed thing place are they at?” Klaus grabbed Diego by the tie of his apron.

“Bedroom you mean?” His brother sneered.

“What did you think I meant you cutie?” The messy man said, watching as Diego’s temper falters slightly. Klaus tried to pinch his cheek but was put in a headlock and pushed away harshly, far too harsh for sibling fun, but then again they were both smiling.

“You fu—“ Diego caught himself on the f word, choking it down and face turning pink. “I guess it don’t really matter which rooms they want but like, I’ll go ahead and say you should pick the ones on the opposite side of where our rooms are. I mean we aren’t all here all the time yknow but Five is and he’s fu— I-I mean he’s freaking loud. So. _So just do whatever_.” He spat out nervously and hurried to the kitchen. He glared at Luther as he wisps away.

Klaus giggled. “He’ll get used to you, that slicey lookin bi— chAAARGHCH bisexual icon, I mean. Yes. Yes, absolutely.”

Allison took Claire’s hand after the groups little meet-up and lead her upstairs. Patrick followed hesitantly and watched as the boy that had been standing there had fled away already. Gee, he had glanced up there only a few seconds ago and he could still see the kid. He moved fast he guessed.

The room Claire shot her finger out to was not to far from some of the others rooms, seemingly unheeding of Diego’s warning. She pointed at another next to it and said daddy can sleep in there. He accepted it and threw his bag carelessly onto the dusty bed. Claire peaked her head around the corner and gave him a thumbs up, and he was not sure why she did, maybe to ease his mind of his worries though there’s no way she could ever know what they were. Thinking that she did mean it that way made the tension once again leave his muscles.

Allison leaned on the doorway to his room.

“Hey,” she rasped and clutched her throat for a moment. She swung out her notebook like she had memorized the movement and scribbled quickly. _“Thank you Patrick. Really.”_

He nodded, too tired to have an actually conversation. She seemed a little sad.

“Your welcome.” He stated dryly. Apparently it was enough for her, and she exited the room without second thought.

 

* * *

 

 

Family dinner.

Sweet god ol’ mighty, one wild house it is. Usually it’s every man for himself but this week is special, so Diego and Grace have made an agreement to cook each night that they didn’t happen to go out to eat. Diego was definitely not the greatest chef but with moms help he could do just fine. It was a relaxing and stressing task. He knew mom could and would do it all on her own but, with his firm belief that she could feel, he insisted greatly that he wanted to help. It never took much convincing to get mom to say “of course, dear” because she understood right from wrong just well. Diego knew that. He knew she went off everything she analyzed logically but he could feel deep down she was a person, and that she had to have yearned for their own freedom at some point.

So he thought, she’s probably internally happy. The smile that’s permanently on her face may not tell all truths, but it was enough for Diego.

Tonight, the first night of Claire and Patricks stay, was homemade chicken wild rice soup with a blue cheese hamburger. Smelled delightful, though Diego did not like blue cheese and had planned to broil a bacon hamburger for himself. Of course him and Grace had a list of things to pick from so Allison’s second family had an option if they didn’t like the food choice that was proposed.

So maybe the whole house had gone a bit overboard with the news. It wasn’t like a hotel or anything, and if it were they certainly wouldn’t get 5 stars for the amount of shit that would go down in the “lobby.” They were all just excited about having an actual kid around.

Besides Five, who wasn’t really a kid at all.

Diego set the table and slowly the others trickled into the dining room and living area, smelling and predicting the dinner. Patrick looked like he just woke up, which he probably did, and he sat with Claire talking about something or other. Luther sat uncomfortably in the open, silently awaiting supper. Allison came over and patted his head. He loosened. Finally, Vanya and Klaus came down, practically dragging a scornful looking Five along with them.

It felt natural as everyone did their own thing, not really realizing how easily they had all met up in the same area without so much as being told to — Five being the exception.

“Alright,” Diego huffed and dashed plates out. “Get over here you guys.”

Patrick slumped his way over with Claire following him. Allison sat next to the both of them. Five made a beeline for the coffee machine. Klaus and Vanya sat impatiently like kids and fucked around, which surprised Allison and Diego to see Vanya acting in the slightest bit childlike. Luther was the normalcy this time.

“So, do you work?” Patrick looked to Luther and spoke as Grace slid his food on his plate.

“Um, no, not currently. I was kinda up in the clouds for a few years.” Luther replied, masking the actual story there.

Patrick hummed and nodded. “So you just livin here with your folks and all? Got any plans?”

“No, no plans.” The big guy said. “But I guess uh, maybe, astronomy is something I’m interested in—“

“Cool. Mhm.” Patrick seemed to be done with the conversation. Luther felt unexpected anger rise in his gut but let it subside quickly. _Had Patrick caught on to something he didn’t like? Was it maybe this whole thing with Allison? Could he ever even— no. He’s just tired is all. Eat your burger, Luther, and don’t pick fights._

Everyone was chewing now, Five much more half-heartedly participating in this fucking painful small talk across the table.

“Diego.” Claire gave him intense eye contact.

“What.” He gave it back.

Claire pointed to his fork. “Throw it at Klaus.”

“Wait WHA—“

And without hesitation Diego does it. It lands sharply through the edge of his scrawny brothers jacket and digs into the chair.

Claire let’s out a shriek of laughter.

Klaus stays shocked for a second before pulling the fork out of the chair and laughs like a madman, then slams his fork down hard into Diego’s burger. Diego reaches at Klaus but he manages to take a big ass bite out of it before he can elbow him in the stomach.

“Klaus you got stuff on your shir—“

And then **_CRACKING AND SHATTERING_** all of the sudden.

Everyone turns to the sound.

Right behind Five is a pile of broken mug pieces. Grace immediately goes to clean up the mess.

Five goes pale and looks at everyone. “Shit, my bad, I forgot it was ceramic.”

“Language.” Mutters Luther after a moment.

Five lifts one hand to blank out the crude hand gesture from Claire that he’s making at Luther.

Everyone slowly shifts back into their previous chatter, too distracted to question what the fuck just happened. Everyone except Claire, pretty much, who snuck gazes at the boy occasionally throughout the rest of their meal. She notices how he leaves earlier than the rest. How he does not finish the soup nor the burger. Seems to be thinking about something else.

After everyone is done for the night, she sneaks upstairs faster than the others.

 

* * *

 

 

Claire watches as the boy, Five, teleports (somehow in a way she can’t comprehend) from the kitchen and, she assumes, back into his little cave. She watches him do it twice; once to some unknown room downstairs (she could hear the warping sound somewhere down there) and once, like she already said, the kitchen, doing what she could only hypothesize is making yet another cup of coffee. But this time using a plastic coffee cup with a lid rather than a glass mug. She could see him fairly well if she stuck her head out below.

It was currently around 12 AM and most of the grownups had gone to sleep, besides Klaus and her father. The light still gleamed from under the cracks of their doors. It’s incredibly easy to sneak out of her room here, no ones camping in the halls and there is no creak to her door when she pushes it open.

She understood why Diego said what he said, about Five being loud. She could hear an occasional F bomb slip out and the scratching of something on the wall. It was kind of annoying but she could tune it out. What was he doing in there? Isn’t he supposed to be asleep? Well, she is too— but that’s not the point.

As the scratching got a little faster and heated, she pressed her ear against the door. She would not tell him what she heard at any point in the future, but she could hear his mumbles become somewhat desperate, sounding as if he was beginning to sob. Then both the sounds stopped entirely and she heard him moving around, and then—

_Clink, ssslishck_. The door opened and she tumbled flat on her face into his messy, dim solitude.

She could feel his eyes burning a hole into her head.

“What are you doing.” He demanded more than asked.

Claire rushed for an answer, her heart pounding. “What are _you_ doing?” She finally retorted.

Unfazed, the boy continued to stare at her. “Nothing that pertains to you.”

Claire scoffed at his stoicism.

He squatted down to her grounded self with icy blue eyes, this time doing the fear in for good. She flinched upwards and stumbled slightly.

“Wait, shit,” she heard him mutter regrettably. “Look kid, I’m trying not to be an ass but you’re making it difficult.”

She stopped herself in the doorway even though suddenly, _irrationally_ , (completely rationally) fearing her life. Turning back around to the boy, heart still pumping and legs shaky with the adrenaline of being terrified, she saw the stiff smile he tried to give her.

Five was sure that horrid excuse for a smile would’ve given her all the more the reason to bolt the absolute fuck out of there. But his attempt was somehow successful, surprising even his genius. Claire unraveled from her panicked state and stepped back into the room, noting how Five tensed when she did.

“Can I close the door?” She asked, he nodded. She could see him holding in the anger that just spilled all over a moment ago.

“Is there something you need, _Claire_?” He grinned again, flashing teeth and bitterness.

She counteracts the strange uncanny behavior with confidence. “No, just curious.” She smiled.

“About what?”

“About what you’re doing.” She pointed at his walls. She had no idea what any of the symbols on the wall meant because of her young age. She could recognize the numbers just fine but the patterns they seemed to be put in were pure gibberish to her childish brain.

Five moved to the wall, pointing to something he said was a _variable_. He asked her if she knew what that was. She shook her head no. “Then you wouldn’t understand a damn thing I say about it, so I’m not wasting my time trying.” He had told her.

Claire pouted at him. “How am I supposed to ever understand if you never wanna teach me.”

The boy furrowed his eyebrows and huffed. She wasn’t wrong, but he doesn’t have the temper to teach children, though under certain circumstances he believes he can do just about anything.

Claire whines. He’s already fed up but doesn’t know if she’ll cry or something, so he scowls at her and holds back his spite. He goes to an empty part of the wall and scribbles something down. “Come here.”

She skitters over to the wall, seeing that he’s wrote some sort of equation. There’s a letter in it, x, which confuses her more.

“Now see, it’s quite simple,” Five starts, “the x has a value.”

Claire stares at him expectantly.

He catches on that she doesn’t understand quickly and continues. “A value is just another way to say the x means something. It’s basically a number but the value can change, if x were 5 the product would be 15.”

“So x is always 5?”

Five grunted. “No. I said the value can change, didn’t I?”

Claire just looks confused.

The boy thudded the chalk head into the wall, writing yet another equation, but this time adding some explanation above it.

_Billy has 8 bags of marbles. He has 48 marbles all together. How many marbles are in each bag?_

Then below:

_8 ⋅ X = 48_

“Alright,” Five starts once again, “you understand basic division, yes?”

Claire nodded. “Yes.”

Five draws out the division problem.

“Tell me how many times 8 can go into 48.”

Claire thought, still not complete in her knowledge of multiplication. “Can I have paper?”

Five shook his head and handed her the chalk. Pointed her to another empty space to write what she needed. She went slowly starting at 2 ⋅ 8 and finishing at 6 ⋅ 8. She gave him back the chalk and declared her answer.

He confirmed it and wrote _x = 6_ below the other work.

“Do you see now? The value of the variable depends on the problem. X or any other letter could mean anything. You saw in the first problem we tried, 3 multiplied by x, I told you that the value of the x was 5, and now it’s a completely different number. Any letter can stand for any number, depending on what the problem is asking you to solve.”

She thinks she understands the concept now. “You’re smart.”

“Yes, I am, but that subject is incredibly basic for me anyway.”

“Then why is it all over the walls? If you know how to do it?”

Five was getting visibly frustrated. “People don’t learn math for nothing, dingbat. I need it.”

Claire maintains eye contact with him for no longer than 5 seconds. He turns back to his wall, seemingly retreating away from any conversation. She finally gets to take in his entire form this time, seeing how he hunches and how dark his eyes go. It’s that look that makes her heart beat against her chest in fear. His schoolboy uniform is misleading.

Oh, there’s another subject she can ask him about!

“What school do you go to?”

Five chuckles darkly. “I don’t go to school.”

Claire almost wants to laugh at the answer, bewildered. “Liar.”

“It’s true,” he says. “I’m guessing no one told you.”

“No one told me what?”

“Nothing.” He knots up. “You should really get going back to your room,” he speaks, close to the boiling point.

Claire taps her foot on the floor, watching him obsessing like a maniac. He just taught her something, was oddly patient, to some level, with her (which was surprising for the both of them), and now he’s back to his abrasive and closed self. Seemed like a cycle. Claire wasn’t sure she’d ever understand Five, coming to that conclusion from just this small time around the frigid eyed kid.

She doesn’t leave the room, bored at the idea of sleeping and still curious of the boy. When she arrived she had hopes in learning the most about Diego and Luther, but her plans seem to have changed.

“Do you _need something else_?” Five spat out.

“So you say you’re smart . . .” She trailed off. “Tell me, how do airplanes _fly_?”

And then Five snapped. She swore she could hear his tolerance crack and he whirled around, pointing the white chalk directly in front of her nose.

“Go back to your room, sleep, before I start yelling and wake the others up. Your dearest daddy wouldn’t like you to be out of bed so late ah? ** _Scram_ _!_** ”

He waved the chalk furiously and his eyes blazed crazily along with his muddled hair.

Claire went wide eyed and that now familiar sense of danger overtook her senses. She scrambled quickly out of the room, only being carefully quiet when she shut the door behind her.

She stood in the hall for a minute or two. Her breath was quick and panicky from the boy’s outburst. That nights dinner was suddenly feeling scrambled in her guts, but she held the nausea down long enough for it to subside.

Quietly, she slipped back into her room, oddly horrified yet satisfied.

 

* * *

 

 

Now abruptly exhausted, Five let the chalk fall out of his hand. That fucking kid seemed like a handful and he was not having it. His head had already been aching since dinner and he felt that if he had to have one more social interaction with someone he really might kill them. Though Five had been rash, the girl did have a wonderful curiosity that made him the slightest bit glad. It wasn’t as bland as the small talk had been at the table, nor as taxing as regular conversation was with his siblings.

And today was just, _not his day_. Nothing about this week had felt right and he had to admit that maybe he was just a little _overly suspicious_ of people. After so long.

Fuck this _thinking about his problems_ shit, he needs a drink.

He jumps the to bar, fixing himself something strong. He’s been a lightweight in this body, but that doesn’t stop him from downing a good amount of alcohol.

He senses a male presence not far, clearly eyeballing him. He doesn’t need to turn around as he waves from behind.

He hears whoever it is shuffle, then a crackly and tired voice saying “what the fu— frick . . .”

Five rolls his eyes. It’s Patrick, probably couldn’t sleep.

“Want a drink?”

Patrick looks absolutely befuddled. Then Five remembers he looks 13.

“I—“

“Don’t start. I know. Don’t remind me that I look like a fucking schoolboy.”

Patrick fumbled and hit his leg on the side of the sofa. He grunted softly and made his way to the stools of the bar. He swivels briefly.

“How are you young?” Patrick asked, starting to piece things together.

“Long story. All you need to know is that I’m approaching my 60’s and I could have you dead in less than a second.”

The bigger man nodded tiredly, as well as accepting Five’s invitation to have a drink. They sat in comfortable silence, embracing the houses darkness and rolling in storm outside.

Patrick looks to Five, who is blissfully sitting and drinking rather too much. He feels an unforeseen sadness soak in. The glow of nearby lightning fills the room for a split second, making Five’s form illuminate in a grimly blue way. He sees the bags under his eyes.

Neither of them speak, and slowly the rain starts to trickle on the roof. The thunder rolls subtly and lightning occasionally flashes the whole house.

Patrick is first to leave the bar. Five sits staring down into his glass, feeling the buzz. It doesn’t feel as giddy as he’d hoped, but at least his thoughts are mucked up enough for him to stop caring about this world for awhile. He passes out at the counter.

 

* * *

 

 

A hand comes down harshly on his shoulder and suddenly he’s being shaken awake. He hears his brothers familiar chirpy piercing voice telling him something.

_“Dysfunctional family bonding day!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did math for this give me a fucking cookie rn  
> also if any of it was wrong don’t call me out—  
> so im just kind of getting into some of the angst like so sorry man i take a bit to drag it out just like the dead bodies in my basement sorry lil jimmy  
> pls someone give me and our children hugs 💕💕🤧🤧


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family goes to a waterpark, everything’s tOtAlLy fInE, and Five pays the consequences of drinking too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally got so sidetracked writing this chapter im deeply sorry  
> was way longer than I thought it’d be 
> 
> chapter number increased 😎😎  
> v o M i t warning ⚠️ kinda... 
> 
> im fucking wjeezing

Vanya stood across the room as Klaus shook Fives hunched figure awake. When the boy bolted up, she could _hear_ the crack of his spine. She noticed Patrick’s strange look of guilt and pity, wanted to strangle him into realization that if Five caught that look he’d surely be done for. She thinks her glare got to him because he looked to the floor and away from the boy quickly. Good.

Even if he had seen Patrick’s stare, she soon attained that Five would be too tired to put on a show anyway. The way he rubbed at his temples and the empty glass that sat next to him made it clear that he’d drunken his sleep-deprived self into a stupor last night. Perhaps even passed out at the counter from the alcohol and not the need for a good rest.

Of course he had to choose this week. _Good work, Number Five. You’ve shown our sisters family whom she’s trying to get to trust her once again how irresponsible we are to have let a child drink themselves into into a slumber._

But Patrick did not look angry; in fact, he looked like he knew something they didn’t. Obviously no one had said a word about Fives true age, kind of expected it to just come together. Why any of them ever though that? Vanya did not know. Anyway, Five was not the focus of today, though this morning would be implanted in her mind as a crucial day in the future. _Today_ was about Allison’s daughter. This week had to go smoothly — and, yes, Vanya May be saying this too bluntly — but everyone else’s shit had to go down the bowl. In other words, _suck it up buttercup_.

She did feel bad for thinking Klaus was invalid though. For that brief moment. He had that look in his eyes yesterday when Five threw that mug. She could tell he might’ve had an episode right then and there but pierced him with a glare. He swallowed and struggled to hold something back. After she realized that was a big dick move, she stayed with Klaus in his bedroom through the night to try and make up for it, in which it did and they found their connection. Dead lovers, though Vanya could never consider Harold as a previous partner. She wasn’t even sure if she was straight anymore.

Now that she reprocessed that thought with Klaus, she held back her resentment to Five’s untimely behavioral issues. It’s not like any of them could control their breakdowns. And she didn’t necessarily consider that Five could be having a breakdown. She didn’t really think he could have one, which was stupid now that she remembers. Anyone can. She’s just never seen Five . . . do anything remotely similar. She was sure he’d be fine in a day or two.

Once Klaus had gotten Five unglued from the bar counter, they all had a “family meeting” (as Allison had phrased it afterwards) about this week. Allison kept the conversation rolling and Luther occasionally provided actually good suggestions, at least good in Vanya, Patrick and Claire’s eyes. Five and Klaus seemed to either not care about what they do or simply not want to do it. Diego seemed neutral about it all, agreed with everything subtly. Grace provided straightforward schedule timing and practical activities available that were in a moderate distance. Pogo stood by her side, nodding in agreement to each word that came out of anyone’s mouth.

The bowling alley was crossed off the list, everyone remembering that it was still closed and, just why would you? Seemed rude to ever go back even if it were open. The next thing (the one Claire had chosen) was the waterpark. It was a longer distance away, an hour and a half drive, but Claire begged and Allison caved fast. Vanya still got anxious around too much noise and made a wise mental note to stay back or spend her time elsewhere while the others went to the park.

They made an agreement to pick whatever they wanted to do each day at a time. Since they all agreed on the waterpark for today, they thought it best to head out now. It was roughly 8 AM. Diego and Five looked especially exasperated with the little road trip but complied.

The normalization of the family was so sudden that it felt surreal. Not once have they all gotten along so easily, but they all secretly knew it was because there was finally a child there. Even though temporary. Children seemed to do that — make things more lighthearted, less extreme. You couldn’t have fist fights around a kid.

Five leaned on Diego and Diego leaned on the car window, both of them asleep. Those two rode with Patrick and Claire and Claire had been sure to sneak a picture and send it to her mother . . .

Vanya and Allison sat in the front of the car. Luther and Klaus sat like children in the back, occasionally bantering and Klaus would try and take the stupid little hat this fucker had on. Dear god, it had to be for shits and giggles right? It looked horrible on him.

“Vanya, you should go fishing for cute little ladies . . .” Klaus poked her neck from behind her.

“That makes me sound like a rapist.”

“Well ignore that part and embrace your new possible lesbian lifestyle!” He cheered back.

Vanya smiled at her brothers antics, though she felt a relationship would be too extreme for her after Harold, or at least, too _soon_ for her.

But who knows really, maybe she’s just scared. Today isn’t about that though, so she shakes it off even though the thought lingers in the back.

They pull up at the waterpark.

 

* * *

 

 

Patrick shakes his daughter awake once they have parked next to Vanya’s car. He calls out to Diego in the back who jumps up in alarm. He supposes he has sharp reflexes. Five is practically backhanded by his brother and wakes up wide-eyed and disgruntled. God, he did not know what to think of either of them. Five is first to actually get out of the car, but he stumbles quickly, teleports to a ditch and vomits. Patrick’s just glad he didn’t do that in the car.

“Oh shit,” Diego muttered blearily. “Is that little bastard sick?”

Patrick shakes his head no. “Did you not see him this morning?”

“Nope. Just saw the regular cuppa coffee.” He said back, unbuckling with a huff.

“It’s a hangover I’m pretty sure . . . he’ll be fine though.” Patrick reassures Diego after seeing his face twist in distress.

Claire does not notice the conversation nor Fives gut spilling and yawns herself awake. She gets out along with Diego. Patrick let’s out a sorrowful groan and follows suit.

Five catches up with them after they start walking down the sidewalk with the others. Everyone looks stiff and tired, but there’s a hint of childish excitement in the air. The Hargreeves did, after all, not have a proper childhood, so a waterpark was something rather enticing. Patrick looked just tired, doesn’t seem to plan on swimming. Knows the noise will be horrid. Vanya had offered to drive since she felt well rested compared to the others, but she informed them that she would not be entering the park. She’d go find something to do and come pick them up whenever they decided call her.

Claire pouted at the girl but but gave up soon trying to convince her to come with. The kid was still groggy.

Luther did not plan on swimming either, obviously. But he’d still go in. He liked the noise and the moisture. Allison had a nice purple one piece swimsuit hanging off her shoulder. Everyone knew she’d look gorgeous. Diego had normal swim trunks, black with a red flare on the side, truly manly. Klaus wore a bikini top and a skirt bottom. Typical. Five wished the park could just be fucking empty of people but he could still enjoy the water, he guesses. He has one of those swim shirts and the normal trunks. He believes it to be awkward to just have your nipples out, personally — he wouldn’t _nipple shame_ any other man. Claire had floaties that had yet to be inflated and a nice yellow swimsuit. Allison thought she was just too adorable.

“Anyone hungry?” Diego shouted over the noise.

Allison and Claire agreed to share nachos. Klaus said a blue slushy because he wanted a blue tongue. Five just shook his head, looking pale at the mention of food. No one else wanted anything. Diego left extra money with Luther in case anyone came back to the table hungry.

So there then. They went off, splashing in nasty baby pee water. Somehow enjoying it.

Five stuck next to Klaus. Patrick remained idle with Luther. Allison and Claire went wild in the whirl pool with Diego.

Pretty wholesome.

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t know, Klaus. I think I’ll make my insides outsides if we do that shit.”

Klaus begged enthusiastically, getting side-eyed by passerbyers. “Please! You never know unless you try and if you do I won’t judge! Who cares if that part of the pool gets shut down it’ll be fine!”

He was trying to get him to go on a double tube with him. If Five got nauseous at all he was certain he’d fucking throw up again. And he didn’t want to do it on the slide. Then again there was some odd desire he felt. He’s never been down a water slide. He can predict the feeling when it dips down, probably replicating the feeling of when a car goes over a bump and the nervous feeling in your guts goes nuts. Klaus tugs on his swim shirt desperately.

“I don’t like going on it alone!”

Five became crooked, stuck between his safe unmoving self and the craving to experience something new. He looked from the slide to Klaus and the uncertainty grew. “Uh . . . Have you been on one before yourself?” Five asks.

“Yes! Everyone has it’s really no big deal please!”

“I mean, I haven’t, and I don’t know if I’ll fucking puke and like, I don’t want to swim in my own vomit anymore than anyone else does.”

Klaus grinned. “I’m sure someone would swim in your vomit, Five. There are plenty of fish in the sea . . .”

That gained him a hardy punch in the man tit.

“Oh come on you little shit!” Klaus begged. A woman nearby gave judgmental eye daggers. Probably a mother.

“If I throw up on the slide, I’m blaming you and you’ll find something in your bedsheets tonight.” He spat.

Klaus cheered in victory and grasped his wrist. Five already felt sick to the stomach.

 

* * *

 

 

Allison sat in the kiddie pool watching as Claire made her way up and down the smaller slides. She was a little older than the kids already there but no one seemed to care about it. Claire helped some smaller kids up the net rope which warmed Allison’s heart. Another woman sat next to her, blonde and had a thick accent. She spoke softly to her little one, who was a redhead with dark eyes. They were a beautiful family.

“Which one is yours?” The woman asked her eventually. The red headed girl was playing with Claire. Perfect timing.

“The one with yours.” Allison rasped out. Grace had okayed her to use her voice for the day, though it hurt like hell. She could speak quietly as if she was losing her voice to a bad cold.

A wide smile, still soft though, spread on the ladies face. Her swimsuit was a light sky blue. “I’ve seen you on TV, yes?”

Allison fumbled at the woman’s words and nodded. She didn’t know why she had been surprised, this happened all the time, but the woman seemed so sweet.

“Funny meeting you. You’re very pretty.” It was then that Allison places her accent. She had to be German.

“Thank you.”

The lady simpered. “Your little one, she here for the spring?”

“Yeah— well, no, kinda. We have joint custody.” Her voice was badly hoarse.

The woman hummed.

“. . . Hey, what’s your name?”

“Gerda.” She replied. “What is yours?”

“Allison.”

The conversation was as normal as can be, yet Allison still felt particularly happy that the woman had spoken to her. She had some calm light that radiated from her, a nice change from the torn personalities of her siblings. It was even better to see their children talk to each other and break into loud laughing fits on the net. Allison learned afterwards that the girls name had been Alessia. When they had to leave the blonde mother gave Allison a small piece of paper with their house number on it. It was probably the kindest and most genuine thing someone has done for them in awhile.

 

* * *

 

 

Diego was a lone-wolf today. Fuck family (not really), he was going to go down the slide 100 times. It was his goal and he’s going to achieve it as if it’s something he’s planned for years. He has nothing better to do, he’s a fucking adult in a waterpark, what was he supposed to be doing? Relaxing in the hot tub? He doesn’t do that shit, not until the end. It has to all go together. Almost all the old farts and middle-aged geeks spent their time being boiled alive while he succeeded at his epicness.

_To be honest, he was just bored._

BUT STILL. Still.

He was probably a horrid example for kids, running in the park and all. He’s been whistled at like, 5 times already, as if he’s a child. Of course he played it off and was polite, but, inside he was not planning to go any slower . . .

Strangely competitive, he rushed up the stairs to the body slide for the 7th time. Doesn’t know why he’s hyped to do it again. He’s only been to a waterpark a few times and was with some friends, but they don’t talk anymore. He usually got ditched anyway.

“Hey, watch it!”

“Whoops.” Diego said blankly to the angered man he’d slammed into.

“I seen you runnin around like that.” He scoffed.

Diego fixed him with his death stare. “Well I ain’t doing anything wrong, buddy, _so sorry_.”

The man was bald with a red-haired beard, taller than Diego but that didn’t matter; his knowledge in martial arts immediately out-rules the chances of this guy ruffing him up, and Diego could see mild hostility in his eyes. But, maybe he was a hypocrite because he’s staring with a sharp awareness as well.

“Prick, all I wanted was a simple sorry, not a half-assed passive aggressive apology.”

“Well, _you’re_ the one getting all riled up about it.”

The bulky guy didn’t move from his position in front of Diego, not like he’d asked but it was expected, so Diego went around only to be gripped on by the shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

The line got shorter and shorter and Five got more regretful with each passing moment. Klaus looked skimpy and gay, as per usual, and Five looked like his son. He doubted anyone would think big brother — they didn’t look similar, so maybe not dad either. Eh, he probably passed as a pedophile.

Fives head still hammered and he felt like his temples might be red from his constant rubbing. Of course, with his luck it’ll be something even worse tomorrow. Maybe he will actually drink himself to death. Didn’t seem so bad in his mind though—

His _creative imagery_ was disrupted by a tug at his collar. Klaus was settled in the back tube and stretching his arms high enough to pull Five along. He let his brother drag him down into the front.

“Y’all gotta wait,” the employee working the slides said. “Somethin happnin’ down there.”

Klaus boo’d the teenager and pushed off without second thought. He let out a long _WEE_ and it echoed as they slid down the dark slope of the slide. They heard a loud _HEY_ from the employee. Five’s stomach twisted a little. God dammit, why did he do this?

The tube curled harshly around a corner and water splashed at the both of them. Klaus whooped even louder and the slide becomes brighter. This must be the section that loops outside. Five grips harder on the handles.

“Ayo Five buddy how are you feeling up there!” Klaus shouted, echoing so bad Five couldn’t hear him very well.

“Alright so far!” He yelled back.

The feeling was just as he suspected. A false nervousness is how he’d describe it. It was quite exhilarating, much to the surprise of Five. He thought it’d be bland but it felt . . . _fun_. Kind of. He didn’t have much of that, he couldn’t be sure.

Then the tube slides into a drainer type contraption. Orange and blue spirals up the walls as the tube circles around the hole in the middle, eventually reaching the edge and flowing down yet another hill. That’s when the nausea hits Five again.

“I swear if I fucking—“

And the slide is done, they burst out of the hole and into the light, and Five goes to scramble out into the water. He still felt like shit.

What he did not expect, was to see Diego throwing a punch at another man.

He sighed and grabbed Klaus’ hand to pull him out of the water and warps them both closer to the scene.

Diego’s got the guy in a headlock. Five sees where his brother surprisingly slips up and stumbles when the red-bearded man trips him over. The air seems to be knocked out of him but he slides his body away from the hulk of a guy, getting in a wrestling position and tackling him.

Trying his best to keep his “breakfast” down, Five stands with Klaus and isn’t sure if he wants to intervene or keep on watching. When he sees Diego huff with anger and draw up a fist, he knows it’s gone too far, so he teleports to his enraged brothers side and pushed him into the water. A life guard who was no help stood in terror as she watched this all go down.

Diego chokes on the chlorine filled pool and splashes his arms around. Five grabs the man’s beard and whispers something in his ear, smiling, and then he lets go and the man’s head thunks on the floor. Klaus, Diego and Five all scanned their surroundings in unison, aware how fucking banned they’re going to be from this place.

 

* * *

 

 

Ben watches Five upchuck for the second time today, heaving over in the trash can near the arcade. He had been content with staying invisible while at the water park, not interested in this sort of thing, but Diego’s twisted face and flaring nostrils made him worry and so did Fives retching.

Luckily no ones called the police yet and the life guard who witnessed it all stood anxiously by the door, watching a kid hurl and a man struggle to keep his temper. Klaus went to find Allison, since he was the only one uninvolved physically.

Ben wished he could tell them he was there right now, but he couldn’t. Not without Klaus. So he had to wait. He wanted to calm Diego down and rub Fives back. He wanted to help but he just couldn’t. He’d accepted that awhile ago but it still hurt.

“Can’t believe that fucker.” Diego fussed.

Five just shook his head and leaned pathetically on the trash can.

“Thinks he can do that shit, picks fights, bastards probably gonna press charges.”

“You have anger issues.” Five muttered weakly. Ben nodded, even though they could not see him.

Diego snapped up from his seat and paced. “Where the fuck is Klaus? Why’s it taking him so long?”

“Have patience, Diego.” Five propped himself up. “He probably needs to explain . . . something. Shit.”

His brother groaned and hit the wall. The lifeguard flinched. _Sorry_ , he said quietly.

“Five, do you think Patricks gonna eat our asses for this if he finds out?”

He shrugged. “Hopefully Klaus made something up.”

Diego hummed in agreement. His eyes were fiery.

“What even happened?”

Diego looked ready to rant. “I accidentally ran into him and he fucking flipped like I sliced his dick off or something! I ain’t sayin sorry I mean I said whoops, that should be plenty!”

Five nods. “It’ll be just fine . . .”

“Yeah okay. Sure.” Diego sarcastically replies.

“Hm . . .” Five does not seem to realize. He looks tired.

Diego gives him a concerned look, then blows his eyes open to Klaus stepping faster down the hall than the others.

“okay I told them Five got sick and that we needed to go home and just shit— tell him that.” He told him speaking in fast lines.

Diego leaned to Five. “Hey, you’re sick.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

“No, I meant— like _sick_ sick. Just more sick. They think your sick and that’s the only reason we’re leaving, you silly hoe.”

“Whatever.”

Allison held Claire’s hand as they walked down. Luther’s eyebrows were scrunched together in worry, along with Patrick trying not to look at Five slumped over the trash. Allison turned to call Vanya and Patrick asked if they wanted him to drive with Five or if they’d rather have him with Vanya this time. Diego said he wanted to stay with Five and that he could just go with Patrick again.

Five stayed still and silent. Claire could see the irritation growing in his eyes.

Vanya pulled up and Klaus rushed them to move on out before some more shit could go down.

So they began their drive home. It was pretty quiet, everyone was tired. Vanya had a smile on her face for awhile, seemingly giddy, but it faded when Allison looked at her solemnly.

“Are you okay?” Vanya asked her, hushed to not wake Luther or Klaus.

“I’m scared.” Allison responds, voice cracking desperately. Her eyes look glassy.

“Of what?”

Allison shakes her head without purpose and rubs her eyes dry. She only tears up more. “I’m scared I’ll never get to be with her like before. I’m scared I’ll lose her for good this time, I . . . I don’t think I could ever live that long without her.”

It took a moment to realize she was talking about Claire. Vanya didn’t understand that feeling of being a mom. She didn’t know what to say but she took one hand off the wheel to place it on Allison’s shoulder, acknowledging her.

“It’ll be okay, Allison. Eventually it will. Don’t hurt your throat, now.”

Soon enough that sibling was also asleep. Vanya smiled to herself again.

 

* * *

 

 

Claire didn’t stop glancing at the mirror to look at Diego and Five in the backseat. She wasn’t sure why they sat like this, the youngest in the front and those two in the back. It was weird. And they were both acting weird. She didn’t think daddy even noticed. Diego looked flared up and hotheaded, ready to punch through a window just to kill a single mosquito. Five became, amazingly, even more vacant. Guess he didn’t like puking up everything he wanted to keep down. She hadn’t seen him eat anything since last nights dinner, but when she came into his room she remembered the protein bar wrappers she’d seen littered all over. But those could be old. Maybe his cravings were just small. Claire liked having just snacks all day instead of breakfast lunch and dinner, those days were fun and lax.

She thought back to last night, from the dinner to Five and hers chat. He had taught her something, and now she felt that the subject had significance. He had also yelled at her but she could forgive him. He might’ve been sick then for all she knows, and even if he wasn’t he still didn’t seem that bad. Just very very confusing. Still not bad, though. Bad people did bad things, but she hasn’t seen his cold spirit do what it knows it has done before.

She has feared him though. There’s something horribly terrifying that can erupt from behind his eyes. A certainty that he _can and will hurt you_.

Claire and Patrick seem to be the only ones awake now, seeing that the two in the back were once again slumped on each other. Diego snores.

The waterpark was fun besides the end. Claire had made a new friend, Alessia, she was super nice. And she thinks mommy likes Alessia’s mom too, they were both very pretty. Alessia’s eyes were so dark it was almost hypnotic, sometimes colors seemed to swirl in the black of them.

She did not like to see everyone upset at the end. In a small place in her, she thought it may have been her fault. She had been the one to insist on going and Five had clearly not been well, if she had just noticed sooner he would feel a lot better. Could be in his little cave with soap. She’d have to talk to him later, she didn’t think he’d have enough energy to snap at her again anyway. If anything he looked like he needed company. Maybe Diego too, but to be honest she was scared he’d get angry. He already looked mad.

“Daddy, how much longer until we get back?”

Her dad looked to her tiredly. “Not too long baby.”

 

* * *

 

 

When they got inside, Allison immediately went to ask if Five was feeling alright. She kneeled down to his height, and it enraged him. She had that look too, that _let me coddle you or I’ll motherly sob at you_ face. He wanted to sock her in the throat. He hated looking small, then people did not respect him and did not treat him like he knew his shit. He knows his shit better than anyone else here, better than anyone else in the god damn _world_. He wasn’t a child, but he looked like one. In a way it was good, none of his behavior would have passed if he was still an old man, but it was fucking frustrating when your life’s work is thrown out like it never existed. Like his knowledge had just disappeared because he’s a kid again. News flash, he was the only genius in this house and they’d all be **_DEAD_** if he wasn’t here.

He notices he’s starting to feel things again and wishes for a drink despite his shitty condition. He’s angry and he hates it because it’s distracting. His head still pounds and he just wants to sleep. Diego’s already fucked up today with his horrible temper, but it wasn’t like he was any better.

Allison is surprised when she gets a tug on the arm sleeve from Claire. Then the attention is quickly drawn away from Five.

Claire had seen his swelling annoyance and decided to do him a favor by distracting her mom. He looked perplexed but took the chance to warp away.

“What is it sweetie?” She croaked.

“Can . . . can I have a sandwich?”’

“Oh, yeah,” Allison blushed. “I forgot I had to feed you.”

Claire smiled a big smile. Allison made her a ham sandwich and gave it to her on a plate. She just took it with her hands and ran up the stairs. It wasn’t too late and now Five owed her for the distraction and the waste of a sandwich. She didn’t even want it, but she had to think of something and quickly.

She leaned on his door, hesitating to knock and waiting to see if he could tell she was there again.

Soon enough she heard the latch slide out and she fell once again, this time squishing the sandwich under her and laughing the very second she felt it splurge. Five just looked at her with dead eyes.

“Sorry.” She said, getting up.

He didn’t seem to care. He had no chalk in his hands and he plopped himself back down on his bed.

“So, what do you want this time?” He asked blandly.

Claire froze up for a second. “Well I just got my mom off your case so, be nice, I just wanted to say hi.”

Five scoffed and let his head drop down. Claire came and sat next to him. It was silent for a minute. An eerie silence.

“You know nothing.” He said abruptly.

Claire didn’t understand. She stared at him and his contorted expression. She decided it was an insult and responded with, “I don’t need to know anything.”

Now _he_ took it as an insult, in some oblivious way. She had no idea why he did, but he did, and the bags under his eyes looked even darker than before. Like his own shadow was standing taller than he himself. That thing erupted from inside him and Claire barked out an apology.

That destructive and brutal look slowly faded away and so did his tense posture. Then his lightbulb went out.

“Fucking hell.”

A flash of blue light came and he blinked away, then returned once again. He held a flashlight up.

“We never have any bulbs, I keep telling them and they never listen. Dumbasses.”

Five looked grim with only the shine of the flashlight on him, but she suppose she does to. “You sure do swear a lot.”

“It’s just syllables. All meaningless.” He said back, picking things off the ground then throwing them in the trash. She guessed he was trying to make the room half decent while she camped in here.

“Sure but doesn’t it still sound nasty in your mouth?” She questioned. She had never sworn in her life.

Five shrugged. “No, I’ve said them too many times to care.”

“I’ve never.”

“Then do it.”

“No! That’s bad!” She gaped.

Five sighed. “Just once. You don’t even need to try. Just say one.”

Claire looked around her. “What if someone hears me . . . !”

“How would anyone hear you.”

“I hear _you_ through the walls.”

Five rolled his eyes. Claire huffed at him. He opened his mouth.

“Diego sucks dick!” He shouted. No one responded.

“See, they would probably be able to hear that if they were upstairs and listening, but they all share half a brain cell and are probably bickering downstairs about something trivial.”

Claire stared at him. He seemed unfazed. Unworried. She nodded.

“Okay, here I go,” she said. “. . . Frick!”

Five pinched his nose. “ _That’s not_ — you know what, forget about it.”

He snatched up a green notebook sitting at his nightstand, then a red gel pen. He lifted a suspicious eyebrow at Claire before opening the notebook, tilting it upwards so she couldn’t see any pages he’d previously filled. She made a mental note to sneak a peek later — she was not all sugar and spice, she had her childish and greedy curiosity as well. Just a deeper understanding to thwart her snoopiness.

He slapped the book onto his floor and sat down. He drew something simple and fast, writing amazingly quick at least to Claire.

A basic outline of what anyone could tell was an airplane was on the page. 4 words boxed around it: _Lift, gravity, drag, and thrust._ Lift being on the top, gravity being on the bottom, drag at the tail end of the plane, thrust at the head. Claire realized he was about to answer her question from yesterday _(Tell me, how do airplanes **fly**?)_, before he had kicked her out. Her heart thumped.

“Come down here for a second.” He said, clicking his pen. She did as told.

“Airplanes fly because four forces keep the plane in the air. They keep air going downwards, which makes the plane go upwards. Do you know how?”

“The jet things?”

“No, that makes the plane move forward. If it’s not being propelled consistently it will fall back down because of gravity. Gravity tugs things down. Like this,” he drops the pen. “That’s what it is. The air being pushed into the ground eventually overcomes the planes own weight and begins to lift it. Then you go up. The engines, jets or whatever you say, are the thrust force. They are moving the plane in a certain direction. Are you following?”

“Not at all,” Claire chirps.

“Hm.” He suddenly rips the paper out of the notebook. Claire startles. He starts folding it into something. “I take it that you must be a visual learner.”

“A what—“

“Sh. Look. A paper airplane.” He pushes it to her. “Throw it across the room.”

He turns the flashlight to the ceiling as a whole, making the entire room a bit lighter. She does what he asked and throws the paper airplane. It slams pitifully into the floor.

“See? It fell because there were was no consistent force. That means no engines to keep it going forward in the air and no properly angled wings to produce a powerful enough lift force.”

“So it fell because it wasn’t made right?”

He nodded.

“And it needs to push around air in certain ways to stay flying?”

“Yes.” He confirmed. “A simple way to put it.”

She looked at the bent airplane, feeling sad all of the sudden. It wasn’t made right and she just destroyed its nose. Technically Five did. She craned her neck to him. “Is there a way to make the plane right? The paper one?”

Five was unsure of how to respond. “Uh . . . No, not really. I mean there’s probably some way to make a paper plane fly faster and longer, but in order to really keep it going there needs to be mechanics and more physics involved.”

Claire accepted that silently.

Five became rigid in his spot.

“How long have you been sick for?” Claire began to converse with him before he got impatient.

Five chuckled. “I’m not actually sick, not with any real illness anyway.”

“Huh? But you—“

“Had too much to drink. But I’m okay now.” He said, his voice tired.

“How can someone have too much to drink?”

“I meant as in alcohol.” Claire gave him a horrified grimace. He just shrugged lazily.

The two sat on the floor for a some time. It had been one of their few moments of comfortable silence. Claire could hear crickets from the outside. Five must have very thin walls or maybe his window could be open under that cardboard piece.

“Go back to your room, I’m sure Allison will be upstairs soon, and I’m tired.” Five said.

Claire complied, but also watched where Five set that notebook of his. She just needed to know . . . She’d figure out eventually how to get a look . . .

“Night night.”

Second day complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at least the end of thsi one was kinda nice 
> 
> literally just obliterated fives insides sorry not sorry im gonna beat him up emotionally next chapter dont worry
> 
> i keep forgetting allison cant talk in this fic and I have to keep going back and fixing her shit so I gave up and let her talk this time but I’m shutting her up later 
> 
> i love writing in claires perspective because she just a kid and I don’t have to try that hard so SKKSKDKDKD also I don’t know how old she is and the Internet didn’t help me so just ); 
> 
> Here’s a peom: 
> 
> Airplanes r cuul  
> I like to juul  
> Please drown me in a puul 
> 
> thanak you for coming to my ted talk xx 💋 
> 
> pleasecommentandgivefeedback


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is one curious little shit, the family is wildin, and Five and Klaus are shopping and having breakdowns. 👊😎

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> help

Claire stretched awake, immediately filled with a nice lax emotion. Her memories come back to her quickly, remembering the time she had gotten here and where she was, remembering their family trip to the waterpark, remembering how sick Five looked leaning over that trash can, but remembering their conversation and brightening up sharply. Then she opened her eyes. The sun warming her blanket, the orange light everywhere and the soft noise of clanking dishes coming from downstairs, all relaxed her further. An excited anticipation grew in her stomach without explanation, making her get up and get out of her pajamas fast. She needed to know what would be happening today. It was calm. She did not expect much of a thrill from anyone, despite her inquiring mind.

Things were as anticipated; a smooth and yellowy morning, only a few of the houses occupants awake (Grace and Diego, planning tonight’s dinner if they decided they were hungry after whatever was to come — Allison and Klaus, separate and bound to different seats lazily, but awake none the less), and nothing was happening yet. Claire was still hazy from a long sleep anyway, so a quiet morning was not all that bad.

She scuttles near her mother, looking over her shoulder and huffing loudly near her neck. Allison feels her breath tickle and reaches her hand up to feel Claire’s hair.

“Mom. I’m hungry.”

Allison looks to her, then Diego who piped up from a distance. _“I think he’s willing to get you something”_ she typed on her phone.

Claire made eye contact with Diego, who seemed to have a sudden burst of energy at the words he heard her speak and the silent conversation in their eyes. She walked over to him and Grace.

“. . . not to like, flex or anything, but I make really good pancakes so if you want me to—“

“Do it right now Diego, get up and make me some pancakes or I _will_ riot.” Claire told him, stars in her eyes. The day was slowly but surely gaining pace.

He smiled. “Of course, but shouldn’t we, I don’t know, make food for everyone?”

“ _We_?” Claire asked. “Can I help?”

Then more energy flies around their heads and, for some reason, making pancakes is quite the epic endeavor. Diego ties on the apron, looking dainty and feminine as ever. He offers Claire one but she declines, saying she likes to just get right into it, and the apron was far too long for her anyway.

Luther comes down, probably urged by the smell of cooking. Claire watches her mom and him talk. She feels like she’s caught on to something, but she can’t place her finger on what exactly. Something about the way her mom smiles and looks at him makes her think she really likes Luther, more than she liked daddy. Something about that thought is scary. She doesn’t want mom to forget about her and dad just because some muscular hubby is here — _her brother_ , basically, but Claire does not think about that too much. She thinks Patrick may have seen it too.

“You thinkin about somethin?” Diego asks her quietly. He stands next to her, flipping pancakes without looking at the pan. Claire feels blessed to be around someone godly enough to do that.

“No, just—“ she trails. “I missed my mom is all.”

Diego looks uncomfortable for a moment, maybe guilty, but he gives her a subtle grin. “She missed you too.”

Claire gave him a smile back. “How would you know?”

“Psh, you were all she could talk about when the world was ending.” He said, confusing her.

She carefully flipped her pancake, being sure not to burn it. It was a little too brown around the edges for her though. “What do you mean ‘ _when the world was ending_ ’?”

Diego looked away now. “Oh, I thought she might’ve— uh, long story short, we saved the world and, you know, the regular superhero mumbo jumbo, just real this time.”

Claire wanted to laugh. What on earth was he talking about? “Why should I believe you?” She gave him a moody glare.

He sputtered, wide-eyed. “Lskkfkfkdkd, ask Five or whatever, I can’t prove it but he’s the expert so,” he drew his lips together in a line, “if you do don’t push it.”

“Why?” She questioned.

“Too lazy to explain.” He said quickly. “YOU SMELLY RATS, BREAKFAST DUN BE READY MY SHRIGGAS!”

“Doubt Five or Vanya could hear that from upstairs but go off I guess.” Luther said, getting up, probably to wake them.

 

* * *

 

 

Five was woken up with a bad feeling already planted in him. In the pit of his stomach there was always an ache when he awoke, some terrible pain that urged him to not get up. Even on a normal day when he knew nothing was going on, when he could just relax and do his own thing, it still persisted each morning and slowly distributed itself to every limb, ultimately making him slower.

When Luther poked him awake, gentle like a cat annoying its owner in the morning, he felt that feeling pinch hard and he went to grab Luther’s stupid monkey hand.

“Jesus Five!” Luther sputtered when Fives grip become rough.

“Why did you wake me up you fucking cockhead.” Five growled at him, blinking through drowsiness.

Luther scrunched his face, studying Five. “Breakfast.”

“What about it!”

“I— It’s ready. Pancakes.”

Five let go of the guy, letting his head fall back to his pillow. He didn’t move.

“Well, are you gonna come down?” Luther asked.

Five shook his head no.

“But Claire and Diego—“

“Not hungry. Whoops. Now get out.” He mumbled back.

Luther looked at his brother, not sure if he should actually leave or not. Of course he should, he had told him too, but— for fucks sakes, it was pancakes.

“I’m sure Claire will be sad to hear you didn’t want her pancakes . . .”

“And _I’m_ sure Claire wouldn’t give a fuck in an hour anyway. I’ve got things to work on.” Five spat back.

“Mhm, sure. What things, Five? Your obsessive tendencies?”

Luther has made a vital mistake. He sees a dangerous glint in the others eyes and he knows he’s done a stupid thing. He braces himself for some lecture or a hard slap, but to his surprise, Five does nothing. His expression goes blank, as if he didn’t even hear Luther, and throws his blanket right back over himself. Air puffs out and it settles back fluffily.

“You can come down if you change your mind.” Luther told him, leaving but first almost knocking over his lamp. He shuts the door a little too hard.

Five huffs drowsily into his pillow. It smells kind of nasty, his hair was getting greasy already but he didn’t really give much of a shit. He’d comb it and do whatever fuckery he needed to for it to be half presentable, but his habits made it hard to keep up with his appearance. He thinks he’s had enough of this family bullshit. It’s draining him, and he wants to use his energy wisely.

Since he has decided not to eat, idiotically, he’s supposes he’ll work on his equations. They are for . . . what would one call them . . . backup. If something happens. He’s always thinking about things that could happen. The commission, the timeline, his families personal lives. Fives not a _stalker_ , but he does definitely keep up to date with his siblings individual lives, all their upbringings. They don’t know it but he does. Something is comforting about hiding it, like he can just pretend he does not care, so none of them come to him with their petty problems. He can take care of them silently. He stalks their social media’s, sneaks in rooms and apartments, gets vague but telling information from simple questions. They like to talk.

So no, he doesn’t consider himself a _stalker_ , more of a _silent protector_. He was aware that if they interfere with the timeline any one of them could be targeted, and Five knows how to identify the work of the commissions assassins. He’s not fucking ready to deal with something like that again, though he believes he could, even under the heavy pressure.

Since no one seems to have come for them yet, Five thinks they are probably in the clear — but something scratches at the back of his skull — an uncertainty. He doesn’t usually have those, he always knows when he’s right or when he’s wrong, but this time he isn’t sure. And now there’s always something _wrong. Terribly wrong—_

No, no, he’s fucking right. Everything is just peachy. He’s kept everything in check. No one has significantly altered the timeline _(psh you can never be too sure Five you need to keep watching)_ and things are okay.

Things have been totally fucking perfect. Absolutely. Yes.

Five looks to his smeared and dusty wall. White scribbles cover most of the surface. To others, the equations may seem incoherent and unintelligible, but to him he can see it all. He knows his own writing, even if it is usually neat and pretty. He hasn’t worked on it for more than a day.

He grabs his chalk, lifts his hand to his wall to find his place—

And he realizes, none of it makes any sense.

The numbers, the values, the order and the relationships between it all, are fucking wrong. Nonexistent. To any mathematician, it’s pure gibberish.

Five stands in front of his wall, blinking.

Finally a knock comes. Klaus does not wait for a response, as always, and welcomes himself to his doorway, leaning breezily.

“Heard you weren’t eating. Wanna go somewhere?”

 

* * *

 

 

Vanya was still smiling the moment Luther had woken her up. Yesterday had been . . . intriguing, besides Fives illness.

She met a (putting it vaguely) yeehaw girl.

Red plaid shirt, skinny jeans, cowboy boots with the spurs and all, and of course the iconic cowboy hat — not to mention she was _perfection_. She had such a beautiful curve to her hips, her smile white and honest, her stomach slim and her fingernails a pretty hot pink. She had a thin pink lipgloss, sparkly and moist. Her southern accent pulled it all together nicely.

Vanya’s eyes were immediately set on her bosoms, as inappropriate as it sounds. Great big gazongas. Heavy set gedoinkers. _Huge fucking tits_ —

Anyway she was a hottie. And when she actually approached Vanya she became even hotter. Her words went together with fluidity, no shame or embarrassment. It was fucking fascinating.

_“Heya there skinny mama.”_

Her hair, a deep dark brown. Her eyes cocoa.

_“Oh god— uh, hi, there, uh—“_

Vanya was describing it like a terrible romance novel, because that’s exactly how it was, but somehow amazing.

_“Wachya’ doin here all alone?”_

When reviewing it in her head she sounded like a charming and sexy rapist. A horrible way to put it.

_“Oh my uh, my family is at the waterpark but I can’t go so . . .”_

Her name was Shelby, an open woman. Seemingly interested in Vanya, in ways she could not pinpoint.

_“Why can’t ya go? Family too wild?”_

Vanya eyes had drifted all over that lady. Her boobs, her tummy, her thighs. All too gloriously shaped for Vanya to be around. She reminded her briefly of Allison, but more wavy. Of course she had been cautious, definitely frightened by the questions and not falling for the sway of her body quite so fast, but it was captivating. Thinking back, Vanya was probably drooling.

_“N— No . . . can’t handle the . . . noise is all.”_

_“You look like someone who plays the violin.”_

_“How do you—“_

_“Saw yer’ little poster thing a long while ago. Just pickin ya strings sweetie.”_

Vanya had went to the bar, only got water, knowing she’d have to drive. Shelby offered to buy her a real drink but she’d politely explained to the kind and open lady why she couldn’t.

Vanya got her number.

She’d see what happens after breakfast.

 

* * *

 

 

Everyone was pretty quiet at breakfast: Klaus and Five were absent, Diego just looked tired and so did Patrick, Allison and Luther stayed in peaceful silence while eating, and Vanya looked hazily blissful. Claire sat almost expectantly. She felt like something was supposed to be happening. A conversation? Maybe? Lazy butts. Maybe she could talk about her school, but when has anyone, especially herself, been interested in _school_? What about, hm, _politics_ — she knew nothing about said topic, but she knew some politicians were ugly nasties so that was good enough to base opinions on, right? Nah, she’s heard her daddy get so frustrated at people, his own friends even, that he lets loose swears. All because of something about _immigration_. Silly. Isn’t that just what geese do or something? In the winter?

Claire was getting bored of just the munching on food noises. She wanted some conversation. So she took the first step.

“Anyone . . . got any news? Anything? Literally it can be anything . . .”

Vanya looked hesitant, Patrick seemed to have nothing, Diego shrugged, and Allison and Luther just looked around thinking.

“I said literally anything . . . You could talk about what gosh darn toothpaste you use for all I care . . .”

Silence.

Vanya finally cleared her throat. “I got someone’s number yesterday . . . ?”

Claire dropped her fork on her plate and scooted towards her. “Tell us more!”

“Well,” Vanya glanced at Allison for a moment, “her name was Shelby.”

“Aaaannddd?”

“I don’t know, she was super hot, and she seemed interested, so I asked for her number.” Vanya blurred out fast. He heart thudded hard. Being on the spotlight about it made her uneasy.

Claire seemed to sense her discomfort and scooted away again. “Well just so you know, I’m proud of you!”

Vanya blushed. Diego was grinning wide at her and then Patrick let out a small whoop, encouraging Allison to start clapping and Luther to clap lightly along.

A few seconds after the silence was setting in again, but Claire stopped that door from closing hard and flung it back open with the question that was going to be on the tip of her tongue all day: “So how did you save the world?”

Diego choked on his food for a second, awkwardly coughing and chugging his orange juice. Was the question really that touchy?

“What uh, wh—“

“What? Something wrong?” She asked innocently.

Patrick looked incredibly confused. Vanya turned her head down. Allison tapped her fingers anxiously. Luther sat tense. Diego looked depressed. Claire observed this all.

“We uh . . .” Vanya began, “yeah, we saved the world, but like, technically, also caused it.”

Patrick muttered “typical.”

“How?” Claire asked, eyes big.

“I told you to just ask Five man . . .” Diego whispered.

Luther sent him a look. “Why just Five? We were all there.”

“Yeah but he obviously can explain it a lot better to them, like what, does Patrick over here even know what happened with him?”

“Actually I figured that out—“

“Yeah yeah,” Diego interrupted, “but there’s more.”

Tension was rising.

“I don’t think we caused the apocalypse.” Luther muttered after a moment of silence.

Diego slammed his fist on the table. Everyone jumped.

“We did Luther, we really did.”

“How, _Diego_?”

He breathes fire. “Why do you think Five was stuck in a fucking wasteland for forty-five years? Why do you think he found us, _dead, all together?_ Because we treated Vanya like _shit_ for her entire life and it led to the _end of everything! It’s why Patch is duh-duhea—_ “

He stutters on his words, unable to finish his outburst. He pushes his food away harshly and stomps away from the table. Luther looks to the side.

Claire felt guilty for starting the topic, but brushed it off quickly. Sometimes her curiosity overcame her good judgement.

Patrick ate his last bite of food. “I’m assuming no one is going to go talk to him?”

No one spoke. Claire and him talked with their eyes though.

“I’ll go see if he’s okay.” Patrick huffed out and put his dish in the sink. Claire smiled dully.

 

* * *

 

 

Klaus fucking drug Five to _Walmart_.

Fucking Walmart. Why did he bring him along to go _shopping_? He wasn’t a consumer or a good judge of the whatever was here, he hasn’t had much experience with shopping. He didn’t like it, besides picking things that could actually benefit him, unlike Klaus who snatched up any shiny thing that seemed to catch his eye. _Oh my God, an ice cream scooper even though we have like 4 already? Yes! Tiny plastic party cups I will never use? Abso-fucking-lutely!_

Five made himself comfortable with picking practical things. The essentials for normal households: milk, bread, eggs, whatever the fuck they might have asked for. It’s inconvenient to have to grab these things when he was with Klaus, since they were located at the ends of the store. A horrible manipulation tactic to make costumers buy more. Everyone knew it, yet they still indulged in it. He thinks Klaus enjoys it actually, telling him not to just jump there and back because it would be weird for people and he likes to walk through it all. Five scoffed, but complied.

Klaus picked up a lot of sweet things. Five, in some weird way, felt angry with each thing he added.

“Do you have a preference my baby brother?” Klaus had titled his head back at him.

Five shook his head. “I refuse to find comfort in too much sugar.” He said. “And don’t call me that, bitch.”

His brother frowned a fake frown, throwing two more bags of whatever bullshit he wanted into the cart. It seemed patronizing.

“You’ll regret eating all that.”

“Oh, why do you say so?”

“You’ll die young.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a problem with that.”

Five cringed.

The store felt too full, like there were too many people. And the light was too bright. So Five tried to stay as close to Klaus as he could, trying to ignore the chatter around them.

“Hey, lets go to the clothes section . . .” Klaus whispered to him as if it had to be a secret.

“Psh, you can’t afford to buy that shit, lets just go.” Five replied.

Klaus pushed the cart towards the women’s section anyway.

_God dammit._

He followed, gliding his hands along the shirts. He stopped, realizing that would be viewed as a childish thing to do. But Klaus was doing the same.

Klaus unhooked a bright orange top with a coffee cup on it. “You should try this on.”

Five guided his brothers hand back to the rack, forcing him to put it back.

“You are no fun!” He said dramatically. Too loud. Five slapped him.

They glided through the bra section. Klaus poked the cups as they did, acting like a kid. Five didn’t give a shit but did glance at the red ones, admiring their vibrant color. Dolores probably would’ve like that one. He touched the lace on the bottom and Klaus went wide-eyed.

“. . . Do you want it—?”

“No! God . . .” Five rubbed his forehead.

Klaus lifted a wavy blue and yellow skirt, putting it to his torso in front of a mirror and posing. It didn’t match well with his jacket but would look perfect on him regardless. “How do I look?”

“Fat.”

Stillness.

“You’re such a bully!” And then the skirt was thrown at him. Five didn’t flinch as it draped over his head. He tugged it off.

Klaus slung it over his shoulder despite Five.

“You should really get some new clothes.” Klaus suggested, snatching a pair of leggings off of a rack, looking at the patterns.

“Not here. They all suck.” Five responded.

Klaus started piling some things, worrying the other. There’s no way he had the money for that.

“You’re just picky!” He said.

Five scowled. “The seams.”

“What?”

“Go put on those leggings.”

Klaus grabbed the clothing and Fives hand, bringing them to the dressing rooms. It felt weird brushing against people.

He quickly and, _pretty loudly_ , changed into the leggings. He opened the door and smiled at Five then twirled.

The seams. The seams were bad. The leggings had not been sewn by the grain of the fabric and were clearly not cut by the same size. Five tsks.

“Don’t buy those,” he says, “they were made wrong.”

Klaus makes a face at him. “No they aren’t, see? My ass looks perfect . . .”

Five pointed to the shifted seam line. “It’s not straight. It’ll be uncomfortable. Don’t buy it you dumbass.”

But his brother smirked, dragging Five into the dressing room and closing it.

“Dude, we _aren’t_ gonna buy them.” Klaus says ominously.

Five can see where this is going. “What do you suppose we are doing then?”

Klaus did not stop smiling. “ _Youuu_ , sir, are going to _take these clothes_ and warp to the car.”

“Sweet Jesus, Klaus.” He sighed.

“ _Pleeeaaaassee_!”

“Fine.” He caved. “But after today, I’m never doing it again.”

Klaus nodded vigorously and shoved the remaining tops into his hands.

 

* * *

 

 

Claire wandered upstairs after breakfast, hoping to find Five somewhere, but to her disappointment she could not find him in the house. She noticed a car gone from outside, and someone had been asking where Klaus was. She pieced it together quickly. They did not sit down for pancakes and neither of them could be found. They were most likely together somewhere. Claire watched how no one else realized this and kept her mouth shut.

She knew exactly what she was going to do.

_She was gonna get her little grimy baby hands on Fives ding dang notebook._

Her mother had offered to take her somewhere if she wanted, but she declined and insisted that she explore the house a bit further. Allison looked worried at first but nodded it off. Her father was, Claire assumed, still with Diego. Luther and Vanya retreated into their own solitudes she was left to do as she wished, and her goal was so close now. This time frame was splendid . . .

So she opened the door to his room, half expecting his threatening lifeless eyes to pierce her. No one. Good. She crept further in, delicately running her fingers on the scribbled-on walls. She turned around to close the door.

This is where Five does his own thing. She’s in the layer. Alone. What on earth is he so keen on figuring out?

Claire examines his walls again, remembering his lesson on variables. She just had no idea what these ones meant. The wall was littered with different symbols, some branching off into what looked like complete nonsense to her (little did she know that it was). In passing, she considered maybe he was some evil scientist planning to take over the world — something like that toilet dude in Captain Underpants. Poor little Claire had no idea.

His floor was still kind of dirty. If you sat on it you’d get crumbs on your pants. Wrappers overflowed in trash bin and the room all together smelled like stale food. The only neat things were his clothes which hung safely in his wardrobe. The board at the bottom of the closet was slightly etched up, leading Claire to believe there may be something under there . . . she’d be a good detective . . . because she found an _arsenal of freaking guns._ A long rifle type thing she couldn’t know the name of, stacked on more she couldn’t name either. She smiled uneasily to calm her nerves and put the board back. One thing on her list to not ask about.

Oh, right, the notebook! That’s what she was here for. Not whatever . . . that stuff was. She knew better than to keep digging.

Claire took the notebook in her hands. Some bad feeling curled in her stomach as she stared at the cover. Was this an invasion of privacy? Would he ever find out? Would he be mad at her? She had studied how the notebook was laying on the nightstand before she picked it up, he wouldn’t notice it had moved, right? Too late to turn back now. She grinned to herself and flipped to the first page.

There was some indecipherable line of words above a full page of more equations. There was a date above it, specifically 6 weeks ago this had been written. The clumps of numbers seemed to fit together better, lining up and following some type of order. Finally there was something she could read with an arrow pointing to some section: “DON’T LET THAT HAPPEN.” She skimmed past it after deciding she’d never understand.

The next pages (maybe around 10) we’re mostly drawings and the occasional quick dash of jumbled writing or another problem. It seemed like he critiqued his own drawings, putting bent or curved arrows near certain bodily figures, then angles near the objects. The object drawings seemed elaborate, like an architects plans or something. The humanlike shapes were almost all of one woman, the lady only ever sporting a dress and a hat it seems. One page began with a pretty drawing of her, but as Claire’s eyes draped further down the page she saw as the woman turned to pure scribbles. The copies of her turning sharp at the edges, her hands spread wide, and in some she had lips instead of a blank area where her face should be. She was usually smiling with those lips. A tense show smile. Hellborn.

Claire thought he might’ve made her up or something. She looked like a nice lady at first before he added that smile. Just so _serpentine_.

She flipped through various more pages, containing things she did not understand and couldn’t ever without the help of the boy, but she could never ask, knowing he’d be angry that she peaked at his notes. Claire stopped when she turned to a page with a drawing on it. It was surprisingly more detailed than the others, with, uh, _bodies_? She wasn’t sure, they seemed to be half covered. Some figure Five had filled in black stood over them. It was creepy.

**_They are dead._ **

The thought was whispered to her and quietly let go.

 

* * *

 

 

Fives ears rang after he teleported the clothing to the car. He felt kind of buzzy all over, weak, then out of breath. Stupid of him not to eat. One jump and he felt like he was about to pass out. He leaned himself on the car, still clutching the clothes to his chest. Jesus Christ, why did he do this shit to himself?

He shook his head and scooted himself into the car. Klaus had told him he’d buy the groceries and shit so he’d meet him back out here. Apparently he had enough money for that.

After waiting maybe 15 minutes, Klaus came squealing out of the store, smiling and drunk on his own adrenaline. He swung the door open hard and tumbled in with the bags.

“That was amazing.” He had said, kicking the groceries under his feet and being scolded by Five to be careful with the eggs.

“Remember, _one time thing_.” Five replied, grumbling under his breath. “Could we stop at a gas station?”

“Why? Gotta shit? Take a leak? Puke? Bust a nu—“

“Stop talking. Stop _breathing_.”

Klaus rolled his eyes and drove out from the Walmart. Five sat impatiently as they approached the Holiday up ahead.

“No but really, whatya need cuz like I don’t have much money left bucko.”

“I want . . . tenderstix.”

“Bitch what?”

“Tenderstix.” He repeated. “Sticks of chicken.”

“And they have those here?” Klaus asked, parking.

Five nodded, glancing at the biker positioned at the gas pump farthest to the right. He was bald. Neither of them would ever know that Klaus was internally wheezing at the thought of the man’s ass hanging from those motorcycle chaps. They got out of the car.

Klaus told Five he wanted a f’real but was told not to waste money on that after he’d already bought ice cream in Walmart. Five was only focused on getting these so called tenderstix.

He stopped walking, turning to his side. Heated under a light sat two boxes with dick-sized sticks of fried chicken. Five wasted no time grabbing them.

“That all you wanted?” Klaus questioned.

“Yes. This is all.”

Five slid the tenderstix on the counter, gesturing at Klaus to hand him money. The cashier, a portly man with acne and a crusty looking beard, thought it was odd to see the child taking the lead. The kid handed him a ten.

“Have a good day.” He said to the weird people.

When the two got into the car again, Five immediately ripped open the boxes. He handed one to Klaus and took one for himself. A good day for tenderstix. Perfect. Amazing. Klaus had a look of confusion when he was handed the box.

“You just want me to hold this for you or . . .”

Five glared at him. The other noted the bags under his eyes had grown darker. “No, you idiot. It’s for you.”

“Oh!” He slid the stick out from the box, then proceeded to give it a fake handjob.

“Don’t be fucking gross.” Five said and slapped his brother with his own chicken.

It quickly turned into a tenderstix fight, and they just kept hitting each other with the chicken until Five’s stick started falling apart and he ended up eating both of theirs. Klaus cackled as the boy shoveled the damaged chicken into his mouth. It was wonderfully to hear Five laugh, even with food stuffed in his mouth.

Klaus didn’t mean to stare, but he was and Five stopped laughing quickly. His face went eerily blank and Klaus panicked mentally when he noticed.

“Five.” He said.

“What?” He asked, still emotionless.

Klaus wondered if he even noticed his own impassiveness. “It’s good to . . . see you relax sometimes.”

Then Fives muscles coiled. Stiff. Aware. He started driving again, hoping it’d ease his brothers nerves.

“I meant like, having fun, you know?”

The tension did not leave the others shoulders. “I understand.”

It was like he thought he was in trouble or being punished. Klaus didn’t know what to do.

“Yeah, it’s nice to just, be okay after all those years, aye?”

“Definitely.”

“You kinda, owe us some bonding time, I guess.”

Five slumped a little. “I don’t owe anyone anything.”

Klaus piped up to that, gripping the wheel a little harder and looking tentatively to the road. “Yeah, no no, you don’t I meant it’s just you left us like that and—“

“ _I didn’t want to leave for that long._ ”

“No no buddy I get that—“

“—You don’t _sound_ like you do—“

“—I do man I do—“

“—just shut up klaus—“

“—I really do, just, look you’re getting upset and—“

“—I don’t get upset, I—“

“—stop interrupting me!”

Blood boils.

Five sneers and Klaus feels himself rising with some unknown emotion. The conversation has just begun and it has already taken a turn for the worst.

“You can’t just expect us all to be like, _oh, he didn’t mean it_ even though you still _left_ , you were still gone for _seventeen years_ and it’s not like all that just goes away because it _wasn’t your fault_ and you randomly come back when we already grew up! Without _you_!” Klaus lets the hurt from that day come back up his throat. He lets those feelings travel in him. He lets the sound of that knife impale the table become audible again.

Then they are back at the house, and Five slams the car door behind him and Klaus panics once again, walking fast with groceries to catch up with Five, who is pacing fast with Klaus’ stupid shoplifted clothes and into the house.

The boy tries to slam the door but Klaus pushes it back open before it makes a boom. Five keeps speed walking ahead of Klaus who is regretting his words.

“Look, Five, I didn’t mean that shit I just got angry—“

And then Five throws the pile of clothes into the fire place.

What a wonderful time for someone to have had it _fucking flaming_. Great timing, God, really just out here making sure Klaus’ life stays fucked up.

Five wipes his hands on his shorts like the clothes had been dirt. Klaus cannot catch his eyes before he warps away from the fireplace, the fire crackling in Klaus ears. He looks back to the burning fabric.

_There’s always something wrong._

 

* * *

 

 

_Claire comes running to Allison, jumping at her new idea. She looks determined._

_“Let’s go to the movies!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel pure joy when i write and even when i am in the mood to only write angst i seriously just laugh the whole time until i read it afterwards  
> and then im like  
> what the absolute fuck was i laUGHING ABOUT- 
> 
> Five’s brain: I love my family. 
> 
> Five: I have a family. That’s it. End of story.
> 
> \-- 
> 
> i feel like i should be adding more tags i-
> 
> also does anyone think the dialogegegegegeg is rushed i mean i tend to just nfjbgjdbgudhs key spam that shit because i get hyper but i feel like it might seem too quick to build any tension  
> but like  
> UwO hope it isnt nasty thx for giving me kisses


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus and Five piss each other off some more, the family goes to the movies, and everything is totally fine. 
> 
> Totally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, first of all, 10 days is too long for me to not have updated and I am ashamed  
> honestky that was jusg laziness but don’t worry my darlings... im good at barfing up words and abandoned fics are something i hate.... but i wont judge anyone if they do thag .... 
> 
> 👀👀 okay also there is mention of avengers endgame in this chapter but dont worry there’s no actual spoilers i
> 
> uuuh what else i swear i was gonna say something els 
> 
> fuck it let’s get started

Stupid fucking Klaus.

Stupid fucking Klaus with his stupid fucking face and his stupid fucking words, a stupid man with a stupid rotted brain. He has no idea what he’s fucking talking about. Pure idiocy. Yes, Five has been gone for seventeen years, but guess fucking what, it was even _longer_ for him. How dare Klaus try and say that, how dare he try and say he owes any of them ANYTHING. He’s spent so long trying to get back and now that he’s finally home it’s too late. He’s hated. He hates.

Five hates them.

He’s pacing in his room over and over again and he doesn’t even care that Claire is there too. He’s just fucking angry, so he walks and walks until he’s breathing hard — or maybe that’s not from the pacing, maybe it’s the fury in his veins.

His siblings have got to be so god damn emotional sometimes, at least he can let himself go numb. They have no self control. They either cry or yell. It’s fucking annoying, _exasperating_. Five rarely feels anything but anger and occasional excitement. Otherwise it’s a bit of a blur, just a passing thought he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on. His stupid fucking siblings let every little thing get to them, they take it personally and morph it into something worse because of their terrible self-images. He mutters obscenities along with his ranting. Claire watches. He doesn’t even question why she was in his room in the first place, but nothing is broken and that’s all that matters.

“Speak normal,” Claire tells him as he throws his hands up in anger. He bites his lip to keep an insult tucked in. “I can’t understand you.”

Five hits the wall roughly. Claire startles. “Why the hell would you ever want to meet this sorry excuse for a family?”

The girl tilts her head. “I think you guys are . . . whats that one big word . . . _intriguing._ ” She says.

Five laughs cynically. “Yes, we are, but in the worst way possible.”

Claire shakes her head, protesting his beliefs. “You’re not that bad. What even happened?”

He cracks his knuckles and grunts hard.

“C’mon, just say it I won’t judge.” She urges. “I’ll tell you all about breakfast if you say.”

“I could give less of a fuck about what happened at breakfast.”

“You were mentioned . . . please! I’ll go first, and then will you talk normal?”

Five turned his head a little to her suggestion. He crossed his arms, went silent and looked Claire in the eyes.

She wasn’t sure what he was doing. Is he waiting for something?

_Oh! He wants me to talk!_

“Well, Diego told me about the end of the world, so I asked everyone at the table how they stopped it. Luther and Diego argued after but,” Five scoffed at that, “besides, he told me to ask _you_ about it. So that’s what I was gonna do just now but seems like it can wait . . . Now tell me!”

Five considered ignoring her request, but he liked that she attempted to distract him with the story from the breakfast that he and Klaus _(that fucking prick I’ll rip his testicles off and make his dead boyfriend eat them)_ thankfully missed. “Alright.”

Claire squeals.

“Klaus took me to Walmart and had me shoplift poorly made clothing, then we beat each other with chicken and he got dramatic and ruined it, so I burned his shitty clothes.”

Claire frowned.

“What?” He asks.

“Why’d you burn the clothes!”

He shrugs. “He pissed me off.”

“That’s not a good reason . . .”

“You said you wouldn’t judge.”

“Fair point.”

Fives face was beat red, still fuming. He sat down, bouncing his leg in irritation. He hated being mad, it was so distracting. This time he couldn’t help but embrace the embers he stepped on. He shall dance shamelessly upon them this time, let them burn his god forsaken feet until they are charred lumps.

Claire was a deep contrast, calm and collected as of now. Five was jealous.

“What did he get dramatic about?” Claire asked finally, her curiosity slithering out from her contentment.

The boy grimaced in disgust at the topic. “My disappearance.”

“Your disappearance? Is that what he meant by _wasteland_?”

“What?”

“I’m confused! When did you disappear?”

“A long time ago.” He says, not expecting to sound melancholy.

“How long?”

He realizes that he does not want to talk about it at all. So he sits still until she catches on, and she slumps.

Yet she doesn’t let that stop her from asking more. “Well, can you at least tell me how you guys saved the world? Or caused it or whatever? I can’t really tell . . . which is real but . . . you know.”

“Sure I guess.” He replied, not bothering to protest her anymore. Her questions were valid after all _(even though something pinched him mentally, saying he shouldn’t (couldn’t) trust her — no, not even a little girl — he shouldn’t do that)_. “It started when I came back.”

Claire piped up on the bed.

“And the apocalypse was coming. I had barely a clue as to why, but it was happening whether anyone liked it or not.”

“How did you know?” Claire asks innocently. It feeds Fives anger.

“ _Be quiet and let me finish_ ,” he snaps, but continues, calmer, “anyway, Vanya was supposed to cause the apocalypse in that timeline, she would’ve destroyed the moon with her powers, and in case you don’t realize it, that means the end of all things.”

Claire’s face scrunched up, confused.

“Dead. Everyone would be dead, I mean.”

She seemed to pale at that but nodded.

“But we did things the right way, and Vanya is stable now. Apocalypse averted.” He says simply, like it meant nothing.

Claire can see that it definitely _did_ mean something. She got the sense that, if that had not happened, she would not be sitting here right now, nor would Five ever had come across her existence. She could silently feel a dull understanding of what he meant. Though cold and in an ice age, Claire could see the pressure pushing on the boy. Everywhere — not just his shoulders — his soul maybe, if those existed.

_The end of the world_. It drifted between both of their minds, the two perceiving it at the same time yet so differently.

As that pressure that tugs and rubs at Five wobbles, _flexes_ , she sees no deterioration in him. No break. She wonders briefly if he even knows it’s there, that maybe he’s so used to it that he will just tune it out, like your heart beat. She sees no creases in him and yet no determination, and somehow he’s breathing. Somehow he’s alive. Somehow, though she thought it was impossible, he could do nothing and still win.

And, oddly enough, this is the closest Claire’s ever felt to a person.

“Don’t know why Diego thought I’d say it any better than someone else. Simple as that.”

Claire disagrees with a shake of her head. Five doesn’t understand what the action conveys.

“I think he just didn’t wanna say it,” Claire says blankly.

Five nods. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

 

This week.

Gosh, this damn week. Sure is quite the adventure. Patrick felt like the dad, as he was, but a dad to other grownups. A dad multiplied by 7.

To be honest, he kind of liked it.

He liked hugging Diego as he cried, he liked it a lot. Not that he got any pleasure from Diego’s sobbing, more about the fact that he was crying in his arms. _His_ arms. It felt good to be a crutch, a lamppost you can lean on for a minute. It made him feel trusted and guilty all at once.

Claire was not one to open up, but she didn’t have much inner turmoil to share anyway. Patrick loved when she came to him with something, it made him feel like a good dad. He never thought he’d have that mindset, that urge to know everything that bugged a single human being. As Claire did whatever she decided to do this fine afternoon, he sat with Diego in his room.

Somehow it was not awkward after he had finished crying. Diego just seemed tired. His cheeks had bright pink splotches on them, drying, and his expression stayed lax and drowsy.

Patrick had no idea what he was crying about. All he knew was that the dude must struggle with words, though he hadn’t shown any previous (or at least not clear) signs of having a stutter. Based on what he shouted inappropriately at the table he suspects its about someone who has died. He didn’t understand this saving the world mumbo jumbo, but it seemed to have an impact on them all.

They were all extremely odd. Odd enough to be feared. Odd enough to make your face drain of blood.

“You okay?” Patrick asked Diego, who was hunched, leaning on him at the foot of his bed. He was careful with how he spoke, knowing how often people mistake concern for pity.

Diego nodded to him loosely. “Thank you.” He says, then stiffens, “ _if you say a word about_ —“

“I won’t. I’m not an ass.” Patrick interrupts calmly.

Diego props himself up. “Nothing is okay anymore.” He says.

“That doesn’t mean it will stay like that.”

“It’s never been okay.”

Patrick doesn’t respond to that, but leans up with Diego. He doesn’t know what happened. He can’t speak on behalf of it, so he sits there with him. It’s enough. It’s got to be enough.

 

* * *

 

 

Ben is usually a voice of reason for Klaus, but right now, he’s more of a bug buzzing in his ear. He’d like to slap him dead, but it’s too bad that it’s already been done. Of course Ben would be on his ass for this, he knew he would the second after he said what he said. Now his new clothes have been mercilessly burnt due to his brothers unpredictable personality. Instead of handling it like a human being his brother goes and throws the damn things in the fire, typical Five. Klaus wishes he could’ve caught his eye, to see if any remorse could be in there, or at least hurt.

To get it all straight (haha, straight, Klaus isn’t that—), he knew Five wasn’t just a . . . monster, or whatever, Klaus knew he had been — fuck what had he said —augmented? _He was different than before_ , is all Klaus can really take out of it. Of course he knew Five could be concerned and happy and all that good stuff, but it was just a little unbearable at times.

Not the happiness, but the absence of it—

Well, absence of everything.

All concern. All happiness. All sadness. Everything. It just wasn’t there sometimes.

And it was scary.

But Klaus has observed that he tries to fake it, a smile or a laugh, he tries. That should be enough, yet he gets an underlining feeling of menace when he notices it. If anyone knows fake smiles and laughs it’s Klaus, big jokester but still super emo, you know? It’s a constant. Except he’s better at faking it than Five is, surprisingly. Klaus has always been a good actor. Ben disagrees but it’s true, definitely.

He still wishes Ben would shut the fuck up though, it’s getting really irritating.

“You can’t just say that stuff to someone like him what the hell were you thinking Klaus are you trying to get yourself killed? What, huh? You wanna die because I’m sure he’ll do it if he really feels up to it, you can’t DO that klaus you can’t DO these THINGS—“

“—Mhm, yep—“

“—Listen to me you rat you have to apologize to him, that was actually like, mean man, MEAN—!”

“—and he burned my clothes! That isn’t mean?”

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN PAY FOR THEM!”

Ben sat next to him, talking more rapidly than he’d usually be. He actually seemed angry this time.

But Klaus was figuring it out in his head, just slower than he should because Ben’s squawking is distracting.

“He’s middlekey scary as hell and if you die then I basically die again too so like—“

“Oh shut your trap,” Klaus leans back. “He’s not gonna kill me for mouthing him off— _and did you just say middle key_?”

Ben’s eyes are saucers. “Have you seen him with a gun . . . ? It terrifies me, and I’m freaking dead . . .”

“I’m his brother he’s not gonna pull out his _good ol firearms_ on me.” Klaus is sure of this (he is not). “And it’s not like I was wrong.”

Ben is still wide-eyed and angry, an oddity but somehow expected. Usually he was calmer yet insightful. When Klaus finished his little burst of hurt he had a feeling Ben would have a word or two about it, as always, on everything.

Okay, let him clear this up, Klaus didn’t mean to sound like an ass.

No, he kind of wanted to be an ass in the moment but if he didn’t then he wouldn’t have—

He’s failing at explaining this even in his own head. Shit. Okay, focus. He didn’t intend to be an asshole today, Five and him were wildin, all was good until he did his whole apathetic bitch hoe thing. And it was making Klaus uncomfortable so he uh, he said shit he shouldn’t have said.

Real question here is not about why he said what he said, more if it was the truth or not.

Yeah, he kind of meant what he said. Five did leave, and he did come back far too late. Those were facts, but it didn’t sit well with anyone. They were _facts_ but there was also the _fact_ that it really _wasn’t_ his fault.

And Klaus has his own shit going on. So another aspect.

“Okay benny, alright, I think I’ve gathered my thoughts good enough to say that I should apologize, because it really do be like that sometimes, and you right you right, I don’t wanna get shot I guess.”

“That’s what I thought . . .”

So Klaus is going to apologize.

But when? How? What will he say to someone like Five?

He has literally no idea, so he’s gonna eyeball it like an absolute mad lad.

 

* * *

 

 

Allison stands next to mom and helps with the dishes from breakfast, humming. Grace eventually catches on to her tune and hums along. Allison smiles. It’s nice. Just the clink of the silverware and the sun from the window and the humming from their mouths. And no guys around, besides Klaus, who Allison didn’t get a masculine vibe from anyway. He was talking to Ben, something about apologizing to someone and the mention of firearms. That last bit worried her.

_Everything’s all right_ , she reminded herself. _Things are nice_.

She talks to mom about simple things; the weather, the city, any news, Claire (though Allison does not view her as simple). Her mind drifts to Luther, thinking about what she’d do about him. Claire was bound to catch on, Allison knew her kid despite the time apart. She knew her and Patrick were over, there was no going back, but she sure as hell didn’t regret it now that she’s got Claire.

_I heard a rumor that you love me._

_**I heard a rumor that you—** _

_Hush_ , she tells herself. _Claire is here, she’s finally here, be happy god dammit!_

Allison loves her family. As many times as she’d wanted to rip that love out, it just didn’t work. That’s just what happens though, with love. At least she thought. She could never be quite sure from just her own experience.

Once she’d finished helping with the dishes, her hands were dry. Too dry. So she went upstairs to get lotion and discovered something amazing. As she was walking down the hall she could hear faint voices from the door of Fives room. Now this wasn’t a normal thing — he didn’t let anyone in there and when he did there was always yelling and someone stomping down the stairs angry as of lately. But this chatter sounded quiet, _inviting,_ almost. Private. She knows she isn’t supposed to be listening. She does anyway.

She can make out a good amount, enough to get the gist of it.

It’s Claire in there with Five. Allison is automatically ecstatic. Since when did they talk? It’s only been like what 3 days, what is Allison thinking, maybe he’s just messing with her (then her alertness springs up but she knows Five would never hurt Claire). No, no it really doesn’t sound like Five is doing anything _evil_ , it sounds like a genuine conversation, much unlike Allison’s attempted ones. How is she . . . talking to him? And having him talk back willingly?

She listens carefully, ear pressed against the door, getting painfully red at the top as she forgets her own weight. Their conversation lasts a decent amount of time, though after a few minutes of leaning her ear to the door she notices a switch in Fives voice. Then she is all too aware that he knows she’s by the door, and Claire doesn’t. The ship sinks and she steps quietly away from the door. The guilt is too prominent.

She’s scared now. Claire was asking about the end of the world. She shouldn’t want to know about all that, and by the looks of it Five wasn’t going to hold back any key parts.

A part of her wanted Claire to never know about it. She didn’t know why, but she felt it nonetheless. She didn’t want Five telling everything, even though Diego was right, he’s the best at putting it all together. And simplifying it, she guessed. She was surprised too. If it were any of them Five would’ve shooed them out. He was very moody lately (a contradiction to Klaus’ thoughts).

Allison caught that blurb of where Klaus and Five had been during breakfast. And the part about Five burning stolen clothes. Now she wanted to go look in the fireplace but it was probably just black dust by now anyway. Maybe she’d talk to Klaus later — and now she pieces together what Klaus was talking about to the unformed Ben. _That’s just the tea, sis._

Allison let this sink in her head for a while. She thought about what they could possibly have spoken about . . . maybe Claire would tell her on her own accord? She hoped. She wanted to know.

_(She wanted to know what Fives mind would looked like if you popped it open and read it like a book, she wanted to understand him, she wanted to know why he was such a big hoe sometimes, she wanted to see what he had seen — she wanted to know how Claire spoke to Five, she wanted to know how Five spoke to Claire, she wanted to know what things they could possibly relate to, she wanted to understand badly. How to connect. A craving every human being shall have.)_

It’s afternoon now, it’s quiet again, Diego has gone off to do his own thing, Patrick is downstairs with Claire who has left Fives cave, Klaus is hiding somewhere in the house, Vanya’s been on her phone all day, and Luthers . . . _drawing_ upstairs (he’s taken some liking to art).

It’s only a matter of time before Claire comes running to Allison, jumping at her new idea. She looks determined.

“Let’s go to the movies!”

Allison is pleased that her daughter has found something to do rather than stay cooped up in this mansion for another day, so she nods her head to the request vigorously. Patrick looks tired as always but at least he won’t have to talk to people.

“You got any idea what you wanna see?”

Claire tapped her foot. “Avengers Endgame . . .” She replied.

“If the Thanus theory is wrong I’ll kill myself,” said Klaus, who swam his way into kitchen to swing open the cupboards for something to devour.

“Thanus theory?” Claire asks.

“Oh, oh my God she doesn’t know about the Thanus theory, Ben what do I do—!”

“Don’t you dare explain that to her,” Allison spoke, sending a death glare.

Klaus swung a can of pringles around. “You’ll have to tell her eventually . . . It’s totally going to happen and we all know it . . .”

Claire looks like she’s about to ask another question so Allison scoots her along into the living room.

“Wanna go tell the others for me? Pretty sure most of em are all upstairs . . .”

Claire is gone and up the stairs before she can finish.

Internally Allison is dropping all of her “uwu”s all over.

 

* * *

 

 

Luther feels a little . . . what’s the word . . . _fucking scared_ sitting next to Five in the car. He’s on his right and Klaus is on his left, looking more uncomfortable than him. Five sat squished between them, scowling deeply at the proximity. His face is dark and has a bloody tint to it. He’s visibly angry, and Luther is relieved when the boy attempts to scoot closer to him. Okay, not his fault this time, that’s good. Accidental protectiveness causes Luther to become physically alert. He resists the urge to pull Five closer, knowing he’d get his wrist snapped. He wonders what Klaus has done.

He figures it’s better not to question it. Being on Fives bad side is nerve wracking.

And he thinks it’s probably bad if you genuinely are scared of your sibling. That’s not normal. Maybe he should talk to the others about it. Luther knew Five had guns, he walked in his room at the wrong time. Opened the door to Five sorting out the weapons. That moment will always be stuck in his head, considering the cinematic pause from Five and the quiet but threatening _“get out”_ that followed, not to mention the dim flickering light in the room.

Why did he have so many guns? Luther could not piece it together. He wasn’t even sure if the others knew. He didn’t bring it up. Sometimes he thought incredibly out of proportion things about the gun situation (which wasn’t much of a situation yet), things like what Five could do with the guns. Oh God. He didn’t want to think about what that freaky ass man could do with the fucking guns, too many things he assumed.

But no, no Five would not shoot anyone. Yes he’s had to threaten a mannequins life to keep Five from killing someone before but that’s not the point . . . It’s not the end of the world anymore, so he has no reason to kill someone. And no reason to have that many guns either.

It’s a paradox. He wouldn’t shoot anyone but he still owns firearms. That’s just a loop of questions. Luther’s never seen Five use one so that’s something, right? He considered him having them for recreational purposes, like hunting, but woods were scarce here and Five didn’t seem to ever leave his room.

Maybe Five was scared? Of something? But what? And why guns? Is that why he’s been so busy with his walls? Is something going to happen does he know something they do not is the end of the world coming yet again—

The car comes to a stop. Luther’s face has been stirred with bewilderment. He looks down to Five and their eyes connect. Five knows something, he’s looking at him like he’s guilty. Or maybe Luther’s just letting his mind get the best of him.

No, Five is digging to the bone with his eyes. They are sharp. Glinting. A knife in a void. _Too terrifyingly poetic Luther, stop that._

He understood Five could sense his fear, the fear that spiked when Five has scooted closer, and to the other this was apparent. _Fuck_ , he’s messed up yet again. _Shit_. He tried to convey some sort of apology through a look but it doesn’t work, Five shuts off and gets out of the car after Klaus.

Well, at least they will find out if Antman really does crawl up Thanos butthole.

 

* * *

 

 

Claire grabs Fives wrist. “Sit by me I have no idea what happened in the last movie and you’re smart please!”

“No,” he replies, “I don’t want to sit there and explain to you what’s going on the whole time, and I as well do not know what happened in the previous movie.” He looks around and at the sign that informs that this movie is a _special feature and no coupons can be used today_. “Plus, it’s going to be packed.”

Claire gives him a pouty look. “Well then you could just sit by me for fun, because we are friends and that’s how it works, and who cares if it’s packed? Popcorns the only thing that matters right now.”

Five is still looking around anxiously, and Claire thinks for a moment he might get dizzy from turning his head so much. “I don’t like being in places with a lot of people.” He admits it like it’s supposed to be a secret.

This confuses Claire. He went to the waterpark and was just fine besides the vomiting! “Oh psh, silly, it’ll be okay just stick with me.”

He looks miserable for a bit before relaxing. Claire leads him with everyone else, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to take any initiative tonight. Allison pays for everyone and the food. Klaus gets two large popcorns and Five told him not to because he wasn’t going to eat it all and everyone knows it but he didn’t listen, Vanya came this time and got nothing but peanut M&Ms and a water bottle, Allison and Luther buy one large popcorn to share, Patrick gets milk duds and a Mountain Dew, Five gets one small popcorn and a water and Claire catches him grimacing at the cotton candy so she gets some herself so see why, and everyone wishes Diego was here. Kind of everyone.

Five is right, the theater is packed and seats are scattered and scarce. He doesn’t care if someone screams and he teleports to a seat in the middle. He’s not taking the time to shuffle between the backs of the seats and people’s unshaven bony legs. Claire makes her way to the seat beside him with ease; she’s small and a child, everyone moves more carefully for her.

He’s utterly disgusted when Klaus slinks into the other seat beside him, almost spilling his popcorn and laughing.

Claire watches how Five reacts. He flinches, doesn’t pay the other man any mind, but she sees the red splotches come to him face. He’s still angry, _oo hoo . . . what’ll happen?_

The previews start, and Claire sighs in contentment at the _Orange Vanilla Coke_ advertisement.

When the actual movie starts the theater goes silent, except for two teenage boys in the far back corner. Annoying. They push one another. Claire would like to pour their drinks over their heads. By the looks of it everyone one here does, and eventually someone whisper-shouts at them to “shut the hell up.”

Claire doesn’t really know what’s going on at all but at least it’s alluring to her curiosity. She’s not sure what the Thanus theory is yet but she’ll root for it for Klaus.

(Poor Claire, too naive to understand.)

 

* * *

 

 

It’s an hour into the movie when Klaus nudges Fives shoulder. He doesn’t look at the man, not willing to converse with him during the movie. Fucking rude. And if all he wants is some of his water or something, he’s not planning on sharing. Nor will he give Klaus any money. He tries not to think about it.

But fuck, he’s literally thinking about not thinking about it, reminding him of what he’s not supposed to be thinking about.

He’s spaced out and forgot he was being nudged in the first place. Klaus does it three times more. Five grunts quietly as a warning.

Klaus stops for a minute before shoving his hand in his popcorn to get his attention.

“ _Bitch_ —“

Someone shushes him.

Klaus smiles because he has succeeded at gaining his brothers attention. “Hey, Five, look, I’m sorry about early. Like actually,” he whispers.

“Hah, kay.” Five dismisses him.

“Not even to be a hoe,” Klaus continues, “I mean it Five.”

Five rolls his eyes. He doesn’t feel anything. “Alright.” He still doesn’t sound real.

Klaus notices, thinks he’s being sarcastic. “You know, when someone apologizes, you’re supposed to take it seriously . . .”

“I know, I’m not stupid _Klaus_.” He responds, still sounds condescending and he can’t figure out why everything comes out like that.

“How come you always do this?” Klaus whispers a little louder and closer to his ear.

“Just watch the movie—“

“Oh whatever neither of us really care aye . . . ? now say sorry for burning the clothes . . .”

Five scowls and lasers his brothers eyes with his own. “No. They weren’t properly made anyway, do not scold me for that. I can set fire to much bigger things.”

Klaus stares. “ . . . What kind of bigger things?”

Five just smiles, fangs and all.

Claire is sneaking glances at them the whole time. Klaus notices but says nothing about it. He turns his attention back to Five. “I know, not the best place to apologize but at least acknowledge me without doing your little snarky and cold act.”

And at that Five stops trying to relent. “ _Act,_ you say it as if I’m trying to be like this. You’re a hypocrite, you hide your insecurities behind your humor. I don’t have a _me_ , I have an _it_.”

“What the hell does that mean . . . ?” Klaus does not understand.

He can see the color of Fives face now, a deep angry red. “What don’t you get?”

“You have no me? The fuck?” They are shushed again.

“I—“ Five is flabbergasted. “I mean, I’m not like you.”

This does not help Klaus’ confusion. “What, like, sad? You seem sad to me.”

“I’m _not_ sad,” Five defends quickly. “Can we just watch the damn movie?”

Then there’s a tap on Klaus shoulder and an employee tells them to be silent. Claire hides a giggle despite the darkness of the conversation she overheard.

“Oh, sorry ma’am, we were just shutting up—“

“Um no we weren’t, we are gonna keep talking about this, right _Fivey?_ ”

The employee looks lost.

“No, were _weren’t, Klaus_.”

“Oh but I think we were!”

He is talking too loud now and Five slaps his hand over Klaus’ mouth harshly. Klaus struggles against his hand and he swears he’s about to plug his fucking nostrils next — then the employee tells them to leave the theater. Klaus looks ready to protest but this time Five really does squish his nose holes together.

“Never mind him, I’ll be going.” He warps away and when he’s in the corridor of the theaters he hears the faint scream the employee let out.

The door with “Avengers: Endgame” in red above it opens quickly after the scream, and out scrambles Klaus. Before Five warps once more he sees Klaus chuck an entire bag of popcorn in the trash.

Now he’s in the men’s bathroom. He’s locked the stall he’s in and sat on the toilet lid, his feet pulled up from the open space under the stall walls. He hears the door swing open and recognizes Klaus’ high heels (yes, he’s wearing high heels, though Five has seen him trip on them multiple times, and he laughs internally). The man doesn’t try any doors, simply glances under them for feet and scurries out. Five is glad there is no one else in here.

Well fuck, guess he’d miss out on the movie, plus they left Claire sitting alone. He didn’t expect to feel bad about that. At least Klaus was probably out of his hair now, maybe he went back to the car but he doesn’t have the keys, at least he doesn’t think he asked Allison for them, she was scooted in the middle of a row. It’d be hard to get to her just to ask for keys, and he was out pretty fast after the scream. Why is any of that important anyway, why is he even thinking about the fucking keys? Shit. Fuck. God dammit.

Five doesn’t like the way that the stall walls seem to loom over him. He doesn’t like how the toilet was installed slightly off center between the dividers beside him. He doesn’t like how the maroon color of door isn’t the same as the brighter brown on the other sides of the walls. He doesn’t like the sound of the air conditioner or the smell of human waste that lingers or the contrast of colors and it’s making him feel sick.

There’s even a buzz in the silence once the air conditioning stops purring and he hates the feeling of the walls and he doesn’t even realize that he’s leaning his hands against each side and he fucking wants to melt the metal they are made out of because the paint is just so rough and gross feeling and he needs to rub his hands on his own skin to forget the feeling of it and he tells himself it isn’t real that the paint isn’t there and the humming of absolutely nothing isn’t _there_ —

He’s panicking, he realizes. He’s panicking and he knows it but it’s not going away it’s still making him press against the dirty toilet tank like the air is somehow a threat and everything he touches feels disgusting for reasons he cannot name.

He feels weak to the bone at the thought of touching things at all and he can’t even handle the coolness of the seat, can’t bare it even through his clothing— _oh god_ his clothing it feels so horrible against his fingernails.

There’s a building ringing in his ears and he clasps his hands over them in a pathetic attempt to stop it, then he’s aware of how rapid his breath sounds because it magnifies intensely and he can hear every small whistle. He’s suddenly thinking over all the ways he could kill everyone here, starting with a little mischief in the kitchen area and ending in gas lines and explosions.

Those instincts kick in, that red warning sign everywhere telling him there’s something coming for him, even though there isn’t anymore and no one should give a shit if something ever was.

A few minutes later of whining at nothing and breathing like he’s inhaled toothpicks, he slumps on the stall wall and fucking sleeps.

 

* * *

 

 

Once the movie is over, Allison goes to see if Klaus and Five just went back to the car, but she had the keys so, she didn’t think they would’ve been able to get in anyway. Luther whispered to her what happened, because apparently he watched it all and didn’t say anything for a few minutes, waiting for a good part to pass over. Claire seemed to enjoy the movie even after Klaus and Fives disappearance. Guess she assumed things would be okay (they were not). Patrick looked particularly uneasy when they couldn’t find Five or Klaus after looking for about seven minutes. Vanya interrogated the cashier, asking if she saw where either of them went.

Luther had went into the guys room and noticed the familiar socks Five wore (they had puppies on them, and Luther didn’t understand why he preferred them when he was constantly mistaken for a child). His feet lay sprawled weirdly, one leg jutted out and the other half hanging off the toilet lid. Luther could see up to the hem of his shorts when he bent down to make sure he was decent. He knocked loud, no answer. He was tired so he just broke the door like an idiot, and the sound was enough to wake Five.

“Hey there.” Luther greets as his brother leans forward sluggishly.

Five holds his head in his hands. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” Luther nods, then urges Five to get up faster. He does.

They walk out to the others, who are interrogating Klaus about Fives whereabouts. Guess they do not notice him walking next to Luther.

“Found em.”

“Where were you?” Claire asks first.

“Sleeping. Bathroom.”

She’s clueless to it. “Ew. Come on let’s go home my legs hurt!”

“Everything hurts.”

“And that’s why we should go home.”

Klaus nodded to her. “Yeah let’s go home . . . sleepy . . .” then he pointed at Five, “and sleepy two.”

He was right for once, Five was tired. He lets what happened in the bathroom slip out of his mind as they drive back home.

_Home._

Does he have the right to call it that?

Everyone’s scared of him. It’s obvious. And he used to not care but now it hurts. As much as he wants to deny it, he can’t, it hurts bad. It’s been so long since he’s felt hurt to its fullest extent, and now that it’s finally here again it’s rumbling at full speed like the asshole that hurt is.

He hates it and loves it. It’s fucking torture and relief at the same time. Torture because it proves how much his family really doesn’t like him, and relief because he feared (he can’t feel much of that fear either) he might never feel anything again.

He decides he hates it more than he likes it and swallows it the fuck down. It’s a lump in stomach the whole way “home.”

Claire eyes him from the seat over. They switched spots this time. She looks to see if the others are watching, but no one else is and it makes her angry. Fives eyes are dark and he looks kind of dead inside. She saw him gulp hard, she doesn’t know why. She wants to know why.

Five catches her look and is too tired to give her a death stare of any sort, they talk with their eyes just how Claire talks to her father sometimes. He knows she sees and she knows he hates it.

All from a glance.

 

* * *

 

 

_They get home, and Five goes straight to his room, debating on wasting that bottle of scotch tonight._

 

* * *

 

_Also everyone’s pretty sad that Antman didn’t crawl up Thanos butthole._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahslaha im so sorry please please forgive me  
> imwsorrh for the repetitiveness of the thanus theorh thing I really am its justwin my head and it won’t get out pleas eyelp me  
> also im not sure what exactly fives freakout thing was idk i was thinkinh panic attack but i described that as more of sensory overload uhhh whatw  
> and today i experienced new things and it’s given me even more ideas so chapter number gonan increase  
> im sorry for lack of fluff any fluf Ast least I dong think there’s much in this one  
> I really wanted to bully five...  
> I have a bad memor e so if i did something in last chapter and forgot to adres it al all pls whip me  
> Already typing too much im sorrh also if anyone is interestded inn talkonh to me anout somethkng i have a tumblr kts “splashyhomo” if u know me dont calleme out- im stired  
> Im rtoo lazyto spell rite anymor e  
> i ruined ths chappter witdh mydum b btutthole thing


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five and Claire have a chat, Claire talks to Klaus and Ben, and Pogo tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that moment when you delete a full ass chapter, lose all hope, only get half of it back because thankfully you check the word count all the time, continue to write things and not update this for 23 days, cry, and spell Claire as Clare and have to go back and fix it all 👊😎😎🤪🤪
> 
> chapters only 3,??? Words because i just couldn’t rewrite it all  
> I FUCKINH FEEL SO BAD FOR TAKING SO LONH  
> But this makes it easier bc it’s a shorter chapter so now I have a lot more time to NOT delete a bigch ass chapter in my notes and I have way more ideas and we get more chapters and nextvwill be either Wednesday or on the weekend but I promise I will have it out sooner and this only happened bc i accidentally deleted that hole ass thing (imcr ying)  
> I rushed this one bc I was hyper and sad and I wanted it done so I could get to the part where Im not retwriting shit  
> I literally smell like rotting bacon  
> Excuse the bad schapter ((:
> 
> -.....
> 
>  
> 
> ):

It’s morning again, and it’s raining this time. It’s a nice raining, at least to Claire. There’s no thunder or lightning, so that’s good. The ground will just be soggy and squishy. _Oo, puddles._

The house is quiet. The rain is the dominant sound and Claire suspects that most of everyone is still asleep. It’s only 8:43 AM. She hears Five in the next room over, already awake. Snoring comes faintly from her fathers room.

Her neck has a crook in it and it hurts to turn her head but it’ll probably go away by noon, as it always does. She changes from her pajamas and slips on a yellow shirt that has the outline of a cartoon bee on it and picks black shorts from her suitcase. Her stomach rumbles.

Claire ignores her hunger for the time being, seeing as Diego is not awake and she can’t find Grace anywhere. She supposes she could’ve made her own breakfast but nah, she wants bacon and she doesn’t know how to use the stove here anyway. So, she’ll have to wait for breakfast. Fives the only one seemingly awake, besides Vanya but she sounds busy on the phone.

She leans on his door. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t just knock, she guesses she likes getting his attention this way. Its fun! Only hurts for a little bit!

Soon enough the door latch _shhhhlicks_ open and she is caught by a pair of hands — _Fives_ hands, which she is grateful for this time (lies, she likes the fall, it makes her excited, but it’s whatever).

“Hey!” She looks up at him distractedly. He still has his hands under her arms and he lets her go without warning. Claire let’s out an _oof_.

“It’s early, what do you need?”

“. . . Do you know how to cook—?”

“I could,” he says, “but I wouldn’t.”

Claire takes a seat on his bed. He’s doing something in his notebook, sitting on the floor. At least he isn’t writing on the walls this time. She spots a bottle of something she can deduce is booze and scowls at him. He notices and just arches a brow.

“What?”

“You— why do you have that?” She points to the bottle. He flushes.

“Don’t question me.” He answers. Claire glares.

“But you’re a kid!”

“I’m anything but.”

Claire stays quiet about the drink. It’s certainly not as bad as the guns hidden in his wardrobe. There’s plenty more things they can talk about. “I’m bored, tell me something or I’ll cry.”

Five looked up from his notebook, but still wrote even as he addressed her. “Well what interests you.”

“Uh,” crap, she had no idea. “say stuff until I think it’s interesting?”

“Okay.” he said. “Pineapple, speckled alder, athletes foot, the Holocaust, rock formation, gay rights, logging camps—“

“No, I meant just _pick_ one and tell me about it!” Claire chucks his pillow at him. He hisses.

“I’m not going to explain something to you unless you’re actually curious.” He turns his eyes back to his notebook. Claire knows he’s still listening.

“Well I have some questions. Can I ask them?”

“Shoot.”

Claire leaned forward, trying to establish some one-on-one connection. A feeling of privacy. “When you disappeared, where did you go?”

Five stopped writing, didn’t look up this time. Claire debated on retracting the question but he set his notebook down, as if trying to focus on the question instead.

“When I told you about how we saved the world,” he paused, “I guess I wasn’t as clear as I thought I was.” He lifts his eyes finally. “When I disappeared, I actually traveled in time.” And he says it so casually.

Claire stares, then laughs. “Cmon tell me for real—“

“I’m serious. It can’t get any realer than that.”

She doesn’t understand. “Prove it.”

“Look at me Claire.”

She does that. She still doesn’t get it.

“I’m supposed to be your uncle. _Look_ at me. How old is everyone else around here, Claire?”

“It . . . they are just your older siblings though!”

“We were all born on the same day. Didn’t your mom tell you that?”

“Yeah but—“

“Tell me what your mom has told you.”

“She said that when you were all thirteen, you ra—“ she stops mid-sentence. “Wait what . . .”

“I should be biologically 30 if that’s how you want to think of it.” He thinks subconsciously 58, but he doesn’t get into that.

“Holy moly . . .” Claire gapes. “When did you go to?”

“The future.” Five replies, getting stiff again just like yesterday. _How long?_ her words echo in both of their heads.

“Am I married in the future?”

“No, you’re dead.”

She goes wide-eyed. Five seems oblivious to how ominous that sounded.

“. . . How do I die?”

“Oh, no no— you _were_ dead, but not anymore. You would’ve been dead on the first of April, 2019. Like everyone else, of course.” He corrects himself.

“Why was everyone dead?”

“I told you why yesterday.”

“Because Vanya?”

“Yeah.”

They sit silent for a moment. Claire thinks this over. Oh gosh, everyone dead? That’s . . . That’s unsettling.

“ _Everyone_?”

“Everyone.”

“Then why weren’t _you_ dead too?”

“I wasn’t there for the initial impact, just the aftermath.”

“And you what, stayed there for . . .” Claire holds up her fingers to count. “15 . . . No, 17 years? What? How?”

“Longer.”

“WHAT?”

“You know what, let’s talk about something else—“

“How long?” She repeats her question, finally.

And then Five warps out of his own room.

 

* * *

 

 

Pogo did not turn a blind eye to everything going on in the house, as much as he did in the past (for the sake of the children). He did not unsee what he saw anymore, he didn’t fake-forget under Master Hargreeves command, but that is not to say that if Reginald were still alive he’d disobey him. Even elderly monkeys had their deep seeded issues, no matter how strong he could be about such things. Everyone in that house has been wronged one way or another. Pogo sees all, but does not _address_ it all, knowing some things are better to be put to rest without a fight.

He has reconsidered that philosophy more than once in his lifetime, but it seemed to have proven itself to be accurate (at least in his case) enough times to live by it.

Pogo didn’t have any level of control over Hargreeves, the best he could ever do was quicken the mans predetermined choices — the bright side was that Pogo was aware of that. He can wish for more time for life as much as he wants but he knows those things don’t come back, not unless you’ve already wasted a lifetime on recklessness and spent it buried in anguish, and all another life could do for you was break you once again.

So this second time on the merry-go-round for Five, in Pogos eyes, is just a damning loop.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sorry, I only drink diet water.”

“Take the cup off Klaus, take it fucking off—“

“I can’t, I’m so sorry.”

Luther stands with his thumbs trapped under a filled glass of water. It’s his favorite glass too . . . it has pretty spirals on its sides. And now Klaus has tricked him.

“Klaus I don’t wanna break it! Take it off!”

“Say ‘oh Number Four, my delicate, loving, and newly sober brother, would you be so kind as to remove this glass of water from atop my thumbs?’” Klaus bats his bitch ass eyes and Luther grunts.

“What have I done to you to deserve this . . . ?”

Klaus boops his nose. “Have you not considered that I may be doing this just for my own amusement? I’m flattered that you think I need a reason!”

Luther thinks maybe he could grab the glass with teeth but it’s too round and hard to get a grip on. There has to be some way out of this torture besides breaking the glass. “Klaus, I’m begging you, please.”

Klaus begins to saunter out of the doorway, making Luther whine, but Klaus pops his head out from the corner, teasing him. “Say ‘daddy, please stop, Ive learned my lesson!’”

Luther opens his mouth to retort, but blue overcomes his eyes and Five is sitting on the kitchen table. Luther screams like a girl and jolts and the cup goes falling. It shatters ungracefully. The floor is wet and sharp.

“God dammit.” Luther sighs. “Five, clean that up.”

“What? No. That’s your mess.”

“Yeah Luther why’d you break the cup man? So rude.” Klaus added.

“He literally tricked me into doing it!” Luther gestures to Klaus.

“Stop pointing fingers Luther it’s unproductive.”

Five eyes the coffee machine from across the shards and water, looks disinterested in their little squall. Luther startles when he warps even though it was expected. He’s just not used to it after all this time.

It seems like Klaus and Five have not made up yet. Klaus looks to the counter and twirls his fingers in the bag of his shirt, trying not to acknowledge Fives presence while Five looks at no one and makes his coffee.

Luther stands in the middle of the awkwardness.

“Hey Five . . . how are you?” Luther asks.

“Stop talking its causing me pain.” Five responds flatly.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones bu—“

“If you hear this your gay.”

Klaus just smiles while Luther covers his ears.

“And if you talk after I finish this sentence you’re straight.”

“I feel like you should be t-posing right now.” Luther says and Five stands up on the counter.

“Get out of here or I drop this blender on your head.” Five nods to the dusty blender that’s been sitting on top of the fridge for like, 2 years. He t-poses . . . Luther shrinks back. “You’re a coward. You shrivel underneath my godly form.”

“You’re a fucking baby—“

“—and now you’re a heterosexual, Klaus.”

“Oh shit.”

“Now leave, you failed abortions.”

Luther stays put. “You can’t do that in the kitchen, this isn’t like your room.”

Five flings his hands out to the blender and the two bolt out from the kitchen, but he still chucks it to the ground. Now there’s a pile of water, glass shards, and broken blender bits. This family is so destructive.

“OKAY YOU LITTLE SHIT NOW YOU REALLY DO NEED TO CLEAN THAT UP!” Luther yells.

Claire’s coming down the stairs and Klaus slaps Luther arm for swearing. He growls.

“What was that noise?” Allison’s voice comes from upstairs. Claire begins giggling at Five who’s still t-posing on the counter above the mess.

“. . . I . . . it was my turn on the Xbox?” Klaus shouts back, unsure.

A few moments pass by. “Kay!” She shouts back.

“Okay but for real, Five clean it up.”

“Nah.”

“I swear to god . . .”

“I’m right here, go ahead, swear.”

“I’ll help you Five.” Claire offers. He turns his eyes away from her.

Five picks up his coffee. “This fucking place, I’ll tell ya.” He flashes away.

 

* * *

 

 

Klaus thinks about last night, considers it a failure.

Ben scolds him for his timing. Klaus doesn’t know when the right time could possibly be. Ever. Five didn’t seem like the type to hold grudges for small things, until this happened.

Even though they joked in the kitchen and Klaus and Luther ended up cleaning the floor, he knew things were not okay, and Klaus saw how Five impassively dismissed Claire. Even a glare is telling but there was nothing, just avoidance.

Klaus wishes Five would be normal for a bit. Would just listen and accept the damn apology, but of course he couldn’t, of course his fucking pride was at stake and he had to protect it—

Like _pride_ has ever helped any of them.

Like Fives gained anything from being a little bitch about it.

He tells this is Ben, Ben looks at him like he’s stupid.

“He’s not being a little bitch, Klaus.”

“He is, he really is.”

“You know it’s not about you.”

“I’m literally the one he’s angry at.”

“That doesn’t mean he hates you.”

“It sure looks like it—“

“That’s just your low self esteem showing. It’s clearly about what you said to him, Klaus, not you yourself. You’re great.” Ben smiles.

“I’m better than everyone here, shush.”

“Who are you talking to?” Claire pops her head into the library.

“Oop, just uncle Ben.” He clenches his fist and Ben materializes with a smile. He radiates blue all over the dark aisle of books.

“What about?” She sits, uninvited but totally invited at the same time. A sis needing tea. Tea gravitating to a sis.

“Five being a little bi— . . . b— . . . uh . . . whatever who cares, _bitch_.”

“It’s okay, he uses swears a lot too.”

“He’s an aggressive queen. We do not stan though.”

“Wha?”

“Nothin.” Klaus chuckles and Ben sits quietly, but still rolls his eyes.

Claire looks expectant.

“What?”

“Well, why?”

“Why what bro?”

“Why is Five a little . . . bee word?”

Klaus pouts and Ben looks ready to defend Five again. “I said some nasty shish the other day and he kinda got mad, and now he’s ignoring me.”

“I heard that he burned your clothes.” Claire comments.

“Yep he did, that little bastard.” He scoffs. “Wait who told you that?”

“Five did.”

“He talked to you?” Klaus scrunches his eyes.

She nods, delighted. “Why, is that weird?”

Klaus crosses his legs and looks at Ben, who’s also kind of surprised. “Nah, jus’wasn’t expecting that.”

“He’s pretty fun.”

“You sure you talkin about the right person—?“

“— _Klaus—_ “

“Yeppy.” She smiles.

“Didn’t know y’all talked at all.”

Claire leans back on the bookshelf. _Gosh, she’s tiny_ , Klaus thinks.

“I think he just burned your clothes because he was sad . . .”

Klaus considers. “Did he say he was?”

“Just because someone doesn’t say they are sad doesn’t mean they aren’t.”

Ben grins smugly at that.

“I know that Claire,” says Klaus, “Five just never talks to us anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“When we were thirteen,” Klaus waves his hand, referring to the past, “he was still a show off but, he actually like, hanged out with us then. Sometimes.”

“But he still does hang out with you, doesn’t he?” Claire folds her knees to her chin, staring Klaus in the eye.

“Nah man.” He says. “I mean if he talks to you, of course you’ll probably think differently of that but, for us, it’s like he loves us one minute and the next he’ll be threatening you with a blender.”

Claire nods to that, not really understanding it but at least pretending to. “He won’t tell me some stuff too. Like how long he went gone. But he told me stuff about math and airplanes so I think he’s cool—“

“—how long? Do you mean the whole apocalypse thing?”

Claire is suddenly hesitant. “. . . Yes?”

Klaus puckers his lips and looks at Ben for a brief moment. He turns back to Claire. “Oo honey, you shouldn’t mess with that. He was there for like, Ben—?”

“45 years. I think.”

“Yeah,” Klaus nods.

Claire stares. Klaus looks to the side. She looks a little dumbfounded. “I still don’t get how he looks like a kid though.”

“None of us do, sweetie.”

She seems like the gears in her head are grinding. She really does look like her age, small, right then. It’s not easy to understand something like that when you’re little — it’s usually either a lie, or a truth without any rationality to it. You don’t need proof to believe in Santa Claus, but it’s not like brushing your teeth is important right? Must be a lie. Santa Claus will give you fluoride toothpaste, aye?

“Okay.” She says. She’s decided that if Klaus believes it, she’ll believe it too. “Makes sense.”

“. . . Okay?”

“I just got a good idea.”

“And what would that be?”

“Lets go to the roller rink.”

 

* * *

 

 

Pogo knocks gently on Five’s door.

He expects the immediate “FUCK OFF!”

“It’s Pogo, Master Five.” He says, hushed.

Five is quick to open the door to Pogo, tolerating him, and giving him that impatient stare like he has important work to be doing.

“What do you need?” He asks. He taps his fingernail fast against the door frame. Antsy.

“I wanted to chat with you about something. Preferably behind closed doors?”

“That sounds not the way you want it to sound—“

“I’m aware. I mean for comfort.” Pogo smiles his monkey smile. Five is reluctant.

“Tell me what’s it about first.” He taps faster.

“I think you know.” Pogo says.

Five snarls at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

They stare, Five still ruffling like an aggravated cat with steam coming from his ears. Pogo eyes him impassively. He knows Five hates sympathetic looks, or anything that pertains to emotions, really. It seems to make him anxious.

Five swings the door open for Pogo and closes it with a bang seconds after he shrinks his way inside.

“I see you have cleaned.” Pogo tells him, noting the overflowing garbage can and the clean floor.

“Get to the point.”

Pogo turns to where Five stands behind him. The man’s eyes are always so sunken nowadays. He has told himself that too many times now. It worries him.

“You don’t seem mentally well.”

“I’m fine.” Five says hastily. He clicks a pen behind his back repeatedly.

“Lying gets you no where but further down the pit.”

“You have no _right_ to tell me—“

“It’s inevitable. I’m not here to pity you, or tell you to get over yourself.” Pogo straightens. “Weaknesses do not make you weak.”

“That makes no sense.” Five says, flips the pen effortlessly between his fingers. “If you look at it that way, it eliminates the entire plausibility of weakness even being a thing. Weaknesses are what cause you to be weak. In that case, what else could it be?”

“I would say _weak_ means lacking in character values, but weaknesses have the potential to make you stronger. You do not lack value.”

“I may have _value_ , but I don’t have _character_ value.” He crinkles under the subject, face shadowing with malice.

Pogo knows not to show fear, despite what he feels in actuality. “You’re strong in personality, as much as you want to deny it. I may be one of the only few to realize it, Master Five, but you’re more than just a block of ice.”

Five is scowling, has been this whole time. “I know what I am and I don’t need to be invalidated by you— I _respect_ you, you know, don’t go trying to lose that just yet.” He grumbles.

“I’m not trying to invalidate you. I know you’ve got some knowledge of what’s wrong with this. I understand that you are not a child. That’s why I think you’re capable of recognizing your issues,” Pogo steps around his wording with caution, “and fixing them when you’re ready.” A brick is beaten off his chest. “And I’m here for you when you decide that.”

Five is still in his spot, eyeing him with a braindead look, lips pulled tight together. He’s about to say something before the door opens.

Allison pokes her head through. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Uh, no.” Five closes his mouth. They both turn to her.

“Okay,” she glances between them both, “Well, we’re going to the roller rink, so, get ready I guess.”

Pogo leaves.

Five’s hands tremble.

_Great, family bonding time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please give me a hug. 
> 
>  
> 
> also 
> 
> Let’s have a philosophical conversation... why do ppl wear clothes its a legitimate question
> 
> i didn't correct thi s shit so if i messed something up ill shit myself 
> 
> i relly joked too much in this chapter i am deeply srry ): 
> 
>  
> 
> OKAY HOUR LATE r WENT TO THE MOVIES AND NOW I HAVE A WEIRD BURNING FEELING ON MY ASS CHEEK IDK WHY JUST THOUGHT ID SHARE THX BYE 
> 
> pls comment i-


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family goes to the roller rink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow ok took too long but guess what BITCHES I HAVE THE CHAPTERS ACTUALLY WRITTEN THIS TIME SO IT WONT TAKE ME ANOTHER 20 SOMETHING DAYS TO GET IT DONE I’ve learned my lesson  
> I can’t write in between chapters I need to have the whole ass fic done in notes before I can trust myself with a schedule  
> Since chapters have gotten smaller I’m able to pump out more especially when I’m not worrying about the days so much and I took my time to write them all out so it’s been WORTH JT FOLKS  
> I am always counting the days between things I do and it makes me scared when it grows becuase I know 20 days can feel like two months if your having that kind of time eek it felt like idk two weeks for me  
> Wait how many days is in two weeks IDK but I had This oTher fic I started and need to update but I ain’t until I git three chapters done so fuck me in the ass sorry I’m hyper

* * *

They park, and Five already regrets going, but Claire is sitting next to him and she’s happy, so he keeps a sigh in his throat.

 

The roller rink is pretty barren today — the parking lot is close to empty, besides the silver Ford and the red Toyota. The outside walls are just wavy white panels that make it look plain, despite the inside being a vomit bucket of color. Allison steals Claire to go to the vendor. They come back to the table Patrick has plopped himself into, and Klaus complains that he wants snacks too so Allison throws a twenty at him from her bra. Five wants an Oreo ice cream, as well as lemonade, so he goes with Klaus. Five watches as Klaus tells what he thinks is Ben that _it’s okay, food is for the weak_ and _now you can’t gain weight, so plus for you._

 

Five enjoys his ice cream, considers asking Allison for a buck or two so he can get another, but decides against it. He unconsciously deems it as childish (it seems like everything has suddenly become childish now — including a smile).

 

Five grumbles when Patrick buys him one. He’s not sure how he knew, but he did, and he comes back to the table just as Claire finishes tying her roller skates on with a waffle cone of Vanilla and an Oreo ice cream. He looks tired and smug, kind of a weird combination. Five supposes this is what a father is like, a normal one, and decides that he must have been watching as Five eyed the vendor for longer than what was appropriate. He doesn’t complain though, just silently seethes at the fact that he was only watching because of his babyish appearance.

 

Claire tugs on Five’s arm. “Are you gonna skate?” She is not only getting his attention, but is using him as support to keep herself upright. She rolls back and Five tugs her up again.

 

“I don’t know. I’ve never skated before.” He answers her, looks out to the rink and squints at the disco ball that hangs in the middle. It aggravates him for reasons he does not know. Perhaps the confusing pattern of the light. He has never liked disorganized things — even small things that should not matter.

 

“Well you’re gonna.” And then Claire hands him a ticket to get skates. He stares at it.

 

“I don’t think it’s such a good idea—“

 

“—shhh. Go get the skates . . .” Her eyes bug out as she tries to intimidate him with the look.

 

“You need to work on your death stare.” He tells her and guides her hands to the edge of the table so she doesn’t fall. He goes to get the skates.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Allison grins as Claire struggles to use her skates. She’s glad that there’s barely anyone here. Claires so small, Allison wouldn’t be surprised if she was run over like a cat on the road. She’s also glad that Vanya, Five, and Klaus are skating as well, given that Claire has only been skating once or twice in her life. At least her nor Patrick have to skate — it kills your legs afterwards. Luther says he feels too fat to skate. She pats his back.

 

Allison sits across from Patrick, who is finishing his ice cream. He looks lighter than yesterday. She likes that.

 

Thoughts come to her. She thinks about their past. She thinks about what she did. Luther sits next to Patrick, drumming his fingers on the table and resting his head on his palm. He’s so very big next to Patrick.

 

The moment makes her stomach burst with butterflies. She’s not sure if they come to her from embarrassment or surprise. She’s not sure why she’d feel either of those things.

 

Patrick catches her eye and, oh my god, actually smiles at her, still licking his ice cream. His eyes and smile are gone fast, but it was still there, and it is seared into Allison’s brain.

 

She hears Claire laughing on the other end of the rink. Five is on his hands and knees growling, and Allison is scared for a moment before Claire tries to help but only falls on her butt in the process. She sees Five smile and that’s when her worry dissipates. She doesn’t know why she was worried (yes she does, she is just lying to herself).

 

All of the sudden it hits her that Five has just fallen and smiled. And Claire had been laughing. And she wishes it wasn’t so surprising but she can’t deny it. It makes her somewhat jealous, like it had when she overhead some conversation that took place in Five’s room.

 

She shakes her head away from it all. She speaks to both Patrick and Luther next: “when we went to the water park, I met a lady and she gave me her phone number and Claire made a friend there so, I was wondering, should I call her? Or would that be weird?”

 

Patrick huffs. “Why would that be weird? She gave ya her number for a reason.”

 

Allison flushes. “Oh. Yeah.”

 

“Are they trustworthy?” Asks Luther.

 

“Yes Luther.” She rolls her eyes a bit with a smile. Luther turns red. Patrick scowls, biting into his cone.

 

“She was German.” She adds

 

“Was she hot?” Patrick asks.

 

“Why would you—“

 

“I’m kidding.”

 

Allison’s ears flare red and she snaps her attention back to the rink, not really watching but staring to ignore her mistake.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s weird to have fun.

 

Actual fun, not just sitting and watching other people have fun and pretending that you’re having fun too. It’s easy to exhaust yourself when people problems aren’t the problems you are able to solve. But aren’t all problems people problems? Does a business not faulter when the demand dies? And isn’t the demand coming from people, and isn’t the whatever the demand is created by more people? It’s all people in the end, because there isn’t a problem unless it’s a people problem, because the ice does not care if it melts and the water does not care if it evaporates — it’s the person who uses the ice that cares if it melts and it’s the person that drinks the water that cares if it evaporates.

 

In the end the world has exhausted Five to the point where he’d rather it fuck off like it did the last time. It’s easier when no one gets mad at you — but it’s also really shit when there is no one to get mad at you in the first place. So he supposes being hated or being mad at is better than being alone, because it doesn’t hurt as much, for him at least. If he had the choice to hear his family while he lived in the post-apocalypse, he wouldn’t give a shit if all those voices did was insult him. It would’ve been better than nothing. Anything had been better than nothing.

 

And it’s really nice that Claire has been something, because when he is experiencing real joy with a mindless rat, it is not lonesome and taxing, it is fun. Very fun. A fun that his siblings cannot recreate for him again, and while he roller skates with Claire he briefly wishes he had a kid, because again anything is better than nothing.

 

It has only been days, yet Claire has done something to him, and it makes him want to never talk to her or his family again. It makes something twist in him, a little something called existential dread, because he knows they will all leave again at some point. Allison will have to move closer to Claire’s real home, Luther will need an apartment someday, Vanya and Diego already have theirs, and Klaus will get a job and do the same thing. And Five will be left in the Hargreeves household with a monkey and a robot and basically barren shit.

 

It’s been such a long road and yet this is all he gets, some years or months of happy family time and he’s not even happy. He doesn’t know how he could ever be happy, even after all that, after years of pointless equations and all the Handler had needed to do was press a button to drag him out, even after all of that, he is not happy.

 

Maybe it’s finally taking its toll, and he’ll kill himself now when everything’s okay when he could’ve done it when everything wasn’t.

 

Despite being around exactly who he’s wanted to for years, it’s lonely.

 

Perhaps the Handler had been right. He was looking for happy. He considers maybe she was too, but the thought does not stay long because he never wanted her to be happy anyway.

 

So yes, it is very weird.

 

He ruins the good moment on the rink, because he has thought all this while skating, and has fallen on his ass too many times to have any dignity left but for some reason it’s okay because Claire has too.

 

Five thinks about Pogo’s visit with him just hours earlier.

 

Five isn’t fucking stupid.

 

He knows what’s wrong. He just doesn’t like it. So for the first time in a long time he ignores the problem, ignores himself. 

 

To sum that up, he could give less of a shit about his mental health as long as he’s still breathing.

 

Even if it feels like he’s going insane.

 

And now his acceptance in near insanity has been disturbed.

 

So he’s going to ignore it, and skate.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The four come back to the table sweaty, Klaus taking Luther’s water bottle and chugging it down, Vanya checking her phone eagerly, and Five dragging Claire to get more ice cream with him (Patrick is watching, and also confused but he’s learned that it’s a constant feeling with these people).

 

Allison gets up with a huff and drags Luther up, ready to get out of there. The lights hurt her eyes. Claire comes back to her with a pout though, says she wants to go to the arcade first. And Allison caves, as usual. Luther wins Claire tickets by reaching over to the basket ball hoop game and puts in the balls like it’s nothing. She looks smug about it. She plays skee ball and makes the 100 each time. Then she figures it’s more practical to get as many candies as she can instead of getting something big and stupid at the shop, and gets two baggies of off brand fruity tootsie rolls.

 

“Ugh, can we go? My legs hurt.” Klaus whines just as Claire holds up the baggies to her mom. “You should give me one of those . . .”

 

“No! Crusty.” Claire sticks her tongue out at him. He is surprised at her bullying.

 

“She was so sweet just ten minutes ago.” Klaus tells Allison’s ear.

 

“I think she’s getting tired.” Allison whispers, because she knows Claire will whine at her if she hears that. She never liked going to bed. “She does this thing with her eyes, like they’re possessed and roll all over.”

 

“Demon child,” Klaus says before walking towards the exit, signifying everyone else to follow.

 

Claire holds Fives hand and forces him towards Allison to take her hand too. She walks in the middle of them, then realizes her dad should probably be in Five’s place right now but whatever. He works just fine. He lets go as they leave the building, sooner than Allison, which Claire thinks was a little blunt and rude but Five still sits next to her in the car so she guesses he didn’t think about it.

 

He doesn’t look like he did after they went to that movie. He looks tired, but content.

 

(she has no idea that he has shut himself off)

 

* * *

 

 

 

Before Klaus can step through the door he is tugged back by his collar.

 

Five turns him. Klaus pauses.

 

“I’m sorry.” Five tells him.

 

“I’m sorry too.” Klaus says back.

 

And it is solved.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Idiot, of course it isn’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not long but more to come and faster  
> Slaps you all on the ass  
> I’m still working on another fic now I got 30,000 words down and it’s still growing and honestly I feel like I get too chaotic for this shit and I contemplate often if my grammar has been deteriorating or if my ideas are just flat out obnoxious  
> But I like them and even if someone thinks they are silly it’s still gonna happen because I have a god complex and I nee d to write down my great ideas aye 🕺🕺 KISS ME PLEADE COMMENT 👀👀🎪 shit
> 
>  
> 
> I feel like I’m forgetting something-

**Author's Note:**

> alright this only finna be like 3 chapters then i'll make somethin else hot (: dont worry ill finish this bitch up and im gay for more own messy ass plot   
> pls just yell at me jfdbfjdf,dljdfgfjnv   
> also i dont know shit about a lot of shit i write so like dont @ me if i absolutely fuck somethingkr up itll be fine );


End file.
